WILLIAMS  SKETCHES 


ARTHUR  KETCHUM 

PERCIVAL  H.  TRUMAN 

HENRY  R.  CONGER 


EDITED  BY 

HERBERT  H.  LEHMAN 

ISAAC  H.  VROOMAN,  JR. 


SECOND  EDITION 


WILLIAMSTOWN,  MASS. 
1898 


Copyright,  1898 
BY  HERBERT  HENRY  LEHMAN 


ALBANY,  N.  Y. 
JAMES  B.  LYON,  PRINTER 


TO 

ALL  WILLIAMS    MEN 


2024033 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


PREFACE ix 

THE  BLACK  SHEEP   -       ...  r 

ODYSSEUS 39 

THE  SIN  OF  HOLY  HEDGES       -       -  53 

CONCERNING  A  FRESHMAN  91 

THE  VALLEY  OF  DECISION       -       -  109 

THE  CONQUEST I29 

THE  BOOTLICKING  OF  BRONSON      -  151 

His  FIRST  RUSH xgr 

TEMPORA  MUTANTUR       ...  209 

THE  NEXT  MORNING    -  263 

IN  HONOR  OF  THE  SAINT          -       -  285 

THE  END  OF  THE  BEGINNING      -       -  315 


PREFACE 


T^O  begin  a  book  by  apologizing  for  it 
seems  rather  an  undignified  pro- 
ceeding. Neverthless  we  have  deter- 
mined to  preface  these  sketches  with  a 
few  words  of  explanation. 

When  college  stories  have  been  written 
before  it  has  always  been  by  some  alum- 
nus. Now,  the  alumnus  and  the  under- 
graduate look  at  college  life  from  two 
very  different  points  of  view.  The  former 
has  perspective  and  greater  discrimina- 
tion; his  judgments  in  many  respects  are 
the  more  correct  ones.  But  the  under- 
graduate has  the  same  advantage  over 
him  that  the  man  in  the  street  parade 
has  over  the  person  watching  him  from 
the  sidewalk. 


Preface. 

College  opinions  and  college  problems 
are  very  vital  matters  to  him,  while  they 
are  dead  issues  to  the  older  man.  His 
views  may  be  neither  very  mature  nor 
very  just,  but  at  least  they  should  be  in- 
teresting as  a  study.  If  this  book  has 
any  right  to  existence  at  all  it  is  because 
it  endeavors  to  present  the  undergradu- 
ate side  of  the  question. 

We  are  painfully  aware  of  its  imma- 
turity, and  are  probably  as  much  alive  to 
its  literary  shortcomings  as  our  most  se- 
vere critics.  But  we  shall  be  quite  satis- 
fied if  those  who  read  these  stories  find 
in  them  something  which  may  serve  to 
recall  the  half-forgotten  memory  of  their 
life  at  Williams;  that,  supplementing 
our  deficiencies  by  their  own  experience, 
they  may  look  back  with  pleasure  on  the 
college  that  we  all  know  and  love. 


THE  BLACK  SHEEP 


The  Black  Sheep. 


'"FHE  black  sheep  is  the  spice  of  the 
flock.  It  has  long  been  held  that 
no  fold  is  complete  without  him. 
He  has  been  held  up  as  an  example, 
and  has  done  duty  as  a  simile  so  long 
that  he  has  gotten  to  hold  a  place 
among  the  literary  "  properties."  As 
an  animal,  he  has  been  misjudged  and 
underrated ;  as  an  illustration,  he  is 
too  useful  to  be  eliminated.  Some- 
times the  black  sheep  is  not  black  at 
all,  and,  after  he  has  been  out  in  a 
kindly  shower,  comes  back  to  his  fel- 
lows as  white  as  the  rest.  Sometimes 
he  wanders  far  afield  and  gets  lost  on 
the  hills  —  and  sometimes  he  wanders 
3 


The  Black  Sheep. 

again,  and  is  led  back  to  the  fold  with 
a  blue  ribbon  about  his  neck. 

This  is  how  it  happened  once. 

If  you  know  anything  about  Wil- 
liams you  must  know  something  about 
Billy  Withers.  Withers'  power  of  get- 
ting himself  talked  about  amounted 
to  something  like  genius.  Unfortu- 
nately, too.  It  is  never  pleasant  to  be 
fully  aware  that  people  are  "  onto  " 
you, —  especially  when  you  are  in  col- 
lege, and  your  doings  are  not  always 
in  accordance  with  the  rules  and 
precepts  contained  within  the  flimsy 
green  covers  of  the  Administrative 
Rules  of  the  institution.  At  least, 
Withers  did  not  care  for  the  sensa- 
tion. Sometimes  the  reports  about 
him  were  grossly  incorrect.  Take,  for 
instance,  the  time  the  Dean's  dwelling 
was  frescoed.  Withers  got  all  the 
4 


The  Black  Sheep. 

blame,  whereas,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he 
had  only  suggested  the  scheme  and 
superintended  the  decorations.  And 
then,  that  memorable  occasion  when 
the  pet  donkey  got  into  one  of  the  in- 
structor's class  rooms.  Why  should 
Billy  Withers  have  been  responsible 
for  that?  Besides,  as  Bellew  said, 
wasn't  it  just  like  a  donkey  to  go  to 
one  of  Sandy's  lectures  of  its  own 
free  will  ?  But  all  this,  and  much  more, 
happened  before  Billy's  senior  year. 
There  was  not  so  much  said  of  With- 
ers and  Withers'  doings  after  that. 
Perhaps  he  had  learned  the  gentle  and 
useful  art  of  covering  his  tracks. 
There  was  that  silence  about  him 
which  it  might  be  well  for  Those  in 
Authority  to  regard — and  investigate 
—  as  suspicious.  If  they  did,  they 
could  not  have  had  the  courage  of 
5 


The  Black  Sheep. 

their  suspicion ;  for  they  made  no 
sign,  and  the  number  of  cuts  against 
Withers'  name  on  the  absence  list, 
posted  in  the  hallway  of  Hopkins, 
grew  weekly  more  portentious. 

It  was  one  afternoon  in  early  May 
that  Billy  had  to  take  a  make-up  for 
one  of  Sandy's  little  exams,  which  he 
had  missed.  He  had  just  left  the 
room  and  was  coming  down  the  stairs 
with  the  pleasing  reflection,  that,  inas- 
much as  he  had  flunked  the  exam., 
there  had  been  really  no  reason  for 
his  having  taken  the  trouble  to  climb 
them,  when  Winthrop  trotted  down 
after  him  and  caught  up  with  him. 

"How  did  you  hit  it,  Billy?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  didn't  touch  it,"  said  Withers, 
"  How'd  you  ?  " 

Winthrop  and  Withers  had  roomed 


The  Black  Sheep. 

together  their  freshman  year.  The 
bond  formed  from  mutual  Greek  les- 
sons and  extra  work  troubles,  how- 
ever, did  not  seem  strong  enough  to 
stand  the  separation  of  sophomore 
year,  and  they  had  lost  each  other. 
Besides,  Withers  had  gotten  an 
uncomfortable  feeling  once  that  Win- 
throp  did  not  approve  of  him,  and 
therefore,  he  had  done  the  only  thing 
possible  in  defense  of  his  self-respect, 
and  had  disapproved  of  Winthrop. 

So  it  came  about  that  an  occasional 
word  and  a  passing  nod  was  the  whole 
story.  Worthington  Winthrop  was 
a  young  gentleman  whose  morals  were 
very  much  like  his  neckties, —  always 
of  the  correct  shape  and  never  out  of 
place.  He  always  did  his  duty  in  an 
unenthusiastic,  relentless  way  and  was 
exasperating  as  an  example.  At  least 
7 


The  Black  Sheep. 

Withers  had  thought  so,  whenever  he 
had  given  the  matter  any  considera- 
tion, but  to-day, 

Do  you  happen  to  know  what  mid- 
May  is  in  Williamstown?  When  the 
great  elms  along  Main  street  make 
deep  caverns  of  shade  for  you  to  lie  in 
and  look  out  across  sunny  stretches  of 
green  lawn  and  terrace ;  with  only  the 
gleam  of  the  white  ducks  of  the  men 
straggling  out  of  a  recitation  in  Hop- 
kins, to  divert  your  attention ;  and 
the  tinkle  of  a  mandolin  drifting 
across  to  you  through  the  Morgan 
ivies,  or  an  echo  of  a  song  floating  up 
from  some  where  to  weave  into  your 
dream  —  when  the  hills  themselves- 
seem  to  have  renewed  their  youth  and 
grown  sentimentally  tender  toward 
evening?  Do  you  understand  what  it 
is  to  know  all  this,  with  the  underly- 


The  Black  Sheep. 

ing  remembrance  that  you  are  a 
senior,  and  are  living  and  feeling,  and 
being  it  all  for  the  last  time  ?  Billy 
Withers  did,  as  they  came  down  the 
broad  steps.  There  were  some  fellows 
on  the  lawn  opposite  playing  ball,  the 
strong  afternoon  sunlight  bringing 
their  white-clad  figures  out  in  clear- 
cut  relief  against  the  greenness. 

Billy  forgot  that  he  had  disapproved 
of  Winthrop,  or  indeed,  everything, 
except  that  it  was  good  "  to  walk  wi' 
man  in  fellowship."  He  lit  a  cigarette 
and  put  an  arm  over  Winthrop's 
shoulder.  "  Where  have  you  been 
keeping  yourself  for  the  last  month  ?  " 
he  inquired,  affably,  "  I've  hardly  seen 
you." 

Winthrop  refrained  from  turn- 
ing the  question  back  to  the  ques- 
tioner. "Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  an- 
9 


The  Black  Sheep. 

swered,  "  fooling  around,  mostly.  This 
last  week  I've  been  pretty  busy, 
though ;  my  mother  and  sister  are 
staying  here,  you  know." 

"  No  !  are  they  ?  I  didn't  know 
that,"  said  Billy. 

"  Yes,  they're  going  to  be  here 
right  on  through  Commencement. 
By  the  way,  they  have  been  asking 
about  you.  They  both  want  to  see 
you."  Winthrop  put  the  last  tenta- 
tively. It  was  as  if  he  had  said : 
"Will  you  come,  or  will  you  not?" 

Billy  puffed  for  a  moment  in 
silence.  It  was  odd  how  the  mere 
mention  of  Winthrop's  mother  and 
sister's  being  in  town  raised  that  feel- 
ing of  defiant  recklessness.  Billy 
himself  had  no  mother,  and  Win- 
throp's, he  remembered,  was  sweet 
and  dignified  and  gracious,  all  that  his 


The  Black  Sheep. 

ideal  had  always  been.  Billy  remem- 
bered Winthrop's  sister,  too.  He 
blew  out  another  mouthful  of  smoke. 
"  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  see  them 
again,"  he  said.  "  I  have  not  had  the 
chance  since  the  Christmas  vacation 
freshman  year,  I  spent  with  you." 

"  Well,  they  haven't  forgotten  you," 
Winthrop  said.  "  Let's  see  ;  they  will 
be  at  home  to-night.  Can't  you  come 
up  ?  " 

Winthrop  hesitated  a  second. 

"I  should  be  very  happy  to,"  he 
said. 

"  All  right ;  they'll  expect  you  then," 
and  Winthrop  went  off  across  the  lawn, 
whistling  softly.  When  Billy  got  to 
his  own  room  he  threw  himself  down 
on  his  window  bench  and  looked  out 
into  the  quiet  street.  The  sound  of  a 

cheer,  softened  by  distance,  came  up 
ii 


The  Black  Sheep. 

from  Weston  Field.  A  little  wind 
set  the  trees  outside  to  whispering 
together.  And  Billy  cursed  himself 
for  having  been  an  ass,  and  fell  asleep. 
The  Gym.  clock  had  rung  the  hour 
and  the  quarter  after  when  Sportie 
Bellew  came  up  the  stairs  to  Withers' 
door.  As  a  warning  of  his  approach 
he  gave  the  door  a  kick,  not  because 
he  wanted  to  announce  his  appearance, 
but  he  liked  the  noise.  Bellew  was 
the  sort  of  a  man  who  couldn't  even 
breathe  without  making  a  fuss  about 
it.  He  was  a  cheerful  youth,  withal, 
and  of  an  infinite  good  nature.  Billy 
Withers  called  him  a  "  kid,"  but  Bel- 
lew  was  a  young  person  of  experience. 
He  came  into  Withers'  room,  and, 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
gazed  at  his  host  in  silence.  Then 
he  went  over  and  began  piling  up  sofa 


The  Black  Sheep. 

cushions  on  the  sleeping  man's  face. 
Withers  brushed  them  off  on  to  the 
floor,  and,  sitting  up,  winked  in  the 
light  stupidly.  "  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it, 
Sportie?"  he  said,  in  a  disappointed 
sleepy  voice. 

Bellew  sat  himself  upon  the  desk. 
"Yes,  it  is  I,"  he  said.  "And  now, 
please  tell  me,  where  your  college 
spirit  is.  Why  aren't  you  down  at 
practice  instead  of  lying  here  asleep, 
and  looking  like  a  busted  flush?" 

"  Make-up,  in  Sandy,"  Withers  an- 
swered laconically. 

"Hit  it?" 

"  Flunked." 

"  Get  out ;  you  know  you've  had  a 
drag  with  Sandy  ever  since  you  gave 
him  thirteen  reasons  for  divorce  in- 
stead of  the  nine  on  the  syllabus." 

"  I  wish  I  thought  so  ;  but  it  doesn't 
13 


The  Black  Sheep. 

make  much  difference.  I  wouldn't  have 
come  back  for  it  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
chapel." 

"  Pious  boy !  Have  you  seen  the 
King  to-day?  Haven't  you?  Well, 
the  Band  of  Mercy's  going  over  to 
Stamford  to-night." 

Withers  got  up  and  crossing  the 
room  carefully  straightened  a  picture 
before  he  spoke. 

"Well,  I  am  afraid  the  Band  of 
Mercy  will  be  without  one  of  its 
brightest  gems,  then,  because  I  can't 
be  with  you." 

"  You  can't  ?  Well,  will  you  please 
tell  me  why  ?  " 

Withers  studied  the  angle  of  the 
picture  attentively. 

"Because  I've  promised  to  call  on 
Winthrop's  mother  and  sister,"  he  said. 

His  friend  stared  a  moment. 
14 


The  Black  Sheep. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  damned,"  he  remarked 
softly  to  himself. 

Winthrop's  people  were  staying  at 
the  Greylock.  They  had  just  come 
out  from  dinner  when  Worthington 
told  his  mother  of  Withers'  coming. 

"  I  am  glad,"  she  said.  "  What  a 
nice  boy  he  was.  I  wonder  if  he  has 
fulfilled  the  possibilities  of  his  face." 
Winthrop's  mother  was  of  the  kind 
which  young  men  of  warm  feeling  and 
a  limited  vocabulary  designate  as 
"  great."  She  was  the  sort  of  woman 
who  could  be  motherly  without  ap- 
pearing fussy,  and  who  understood 
what  questions  not  to  ask.  Winthrop 
adored  her,  and  most  of  his  friends 
followed  suit. 

"  Elsie,"  said  Mrs.  Winthrop  to  her 
daughter,  "  will  you  find  me  my  wrap  ? 


The  Black  Sheep. 

I  think  I  will  go  for  a  little  walk  in  the 
park  before  it  gets  too  dark." 

The  after-glow  was  dying  in  the  west 
when  they  went  out.  Against  the  fleet- 
ing brightness  the  sharp  cut  hills 
seemed  to  have  gained  a  new  height 
and  strange  dignity.  It  was  like  a  back- 
ground that  the  early  Italians  painted 
behind  some  sweet-faced  saint  or  the 
Madonna,  Elsie  Winthrop  thought 
as  she  watched  the  color  die,  and  the 
shadows,  surging  up  through  the  cuts 
and  ridges,  grow  cavernous  and  full  of 
mystery. 

Winthrop  and  his  friend  came  across 
the  little  straggling  park  to  find  them 
just  then,  and  together  they  all  went 
back  to  where  the  lights  of  the  big, 
barn-like  hotel  gleamed  out  through 
the  deepening  darkness. 

When  they  came  into  the  light  of 
16 


The  Black  Sheep. 

the  flaring  gas  jets,  set  at  intervals 
along  the  broad  piazzas,  Withers, 
turning  suddenly,  met  Mrs.  Win- 
throp's  eyes  full  on  his  face.  The 
color  mounted  to  the  roots  of  his  hair. 
"  Oh,  Mrs.  Winthrop,  you  aren't  going 
to  tell  me  how  much  I've  grown,  are 
you?"  he  said,  trying  not  to  appear 
embarrassed.  Mrs.  Winthrop  smiled. 

"  No,  I  can't  tell  you  that,  honestly, 
but  you  have  changed,"  she  said. 

"  College  wouldn't  amount  to  much 
if  it  did  not  change  a  man  a  little  in 
four  years,"  her  son  broke  in. 

Billy  moved  in  his  chair  uneasily 
and  began  to  talk  about  championship 
chances, —  that  safe  conversational 
commonplace  which  is  used  so  often 
in  Williamstown  that  the  usual  obser- 
vations on  the  weather  almost  acquire 
the  dignity  of  epigrammatic  originality. 


The  Black  Sheep. 

There  was  an  impersonality  about  the 
permutations  and  combinations  of  de- 
feat and  victory  which  should  win  or 
lose  the  pennant,  that  was  grateful  to 
Withers,  and  he  explained  the  system 
to  Elsie  and  Mrs.  Winthrop  with  great 
exactness.  It  was  easy  to  pass  from 
base  ball  to  other  college  topics,  and 
the  sound  of  the  Gym.  clock  chiming 
the  full  hour  came  like  a  surprise  to 
Billy,  at  least. 

Winthrop  stayed  to  say  good- 
night, and  Billy  went  on  down  to 
his  room  alone.  He  lit  a  cigarette 
and  pulled  at  it  meditatively,  as  he 
walked  slowly  under  the  rustling 
arches  that  the  elms  made  in  the  sum- 
mer darkness  over  his  head.  "  Mrs. 
Winthrop  is  a  corker,"  he  said,  half 
aloud.  "  And  what  a  nice  little  girl 
Winthrop's  sister  is !  I  had  forgotten 
18 


The  Black  Sheep. 

she  was  so  pretty —  no  ;  not  that  either 
exactly.  She  is  more  like  the  arbutus 
the  fellows  get  in  the  spring.  That's 
it." 

There  was  a  note  stuck  behind  the 
card  on  Withers'  door.  Billy  lit  a 
match  and  read  it  while  he  was  fumb- 
ling for  his  keys.  It  was  brief  and 
to  the  point. 

"  You're  a  quitter. 

"  (Signed)  THE  BAND  OF  MERCY." 

It  was  in  Bellew's  handwriting,  and 
Billy  laughed  and  tore  it  up.  Some- 
how he  felt  very  respectable  and  de- 
cent. He  even  thought  he  would  read 
Sandy's  ten  pages,  and  would  have,  if 
he  had  known  where  they  began.  He 
did  not,  however,  so  he  took  a  cold 
bath  instead,  and  then  tumbled  into 
bed. 

Long  after  their  visitor  had  gone 
19 


The  Black  Sheep. 

and  her  mother  was  asleep,  Elsie  Win- 
throp's  light  still  burned.  It  was  very 
late  and  the  village  street  was  dark 
and  forsaken.  The  girl  stood  at  her 
open  window,  looking  out  into  the 
brooding  night.  There  was  a  photo- 
graph in  her  hand  and  she  was  study- 
ing it  intently.  It  was  a  picture  of  a 
young  man  with  very  much  towsled 
hair  and  with  a  foot  ball  in  his  arms. 

"  He  has  changed,"  she  said  slowly 
at  last,  "  mamma  was  right." 

A  sudden  sound  outside  startled 
her.  It  was  the  noise  of  disordered 
singing.  The  men  were  driving 
evidently. 

"  Here's  to  you  Sportie  Bellew, 
Here's  to  you,  our  jovial  friend, 
And  we'll  drink  to  your  health  in  this 

God  forsaken  company, 
We'll  drink  e'er  we  part 
Here's  to  you  Sportie  Bellew." 
20 


The  Black  Sheep. 

They  sang  in  inconsequent  broken 
harmonies.  The  song  grew  fainter 
until  the  kindly  silence  received  and 
hid  it.  Elsie  held  the  little  picture 
close  to  her. 

"  If  he  should  be  like  that,"  she  said 
in  a  frightened  whisper,  "  I  couldn't 
bear  it." 

Winthrop  came  over  to  Billy's  room 
a  day  or  so  afterwards.  He  had 
hardly  been  in  there  since  Billy  had 
had  it.  Some  of  the  things  about 
gave  a  strangely  familiar  atmosphere 
to  the  place.  The  big  brown  photo- 
graphs of  the  Landseer  lions,  with 
the  fencing  foils  and  masks  stuck 
behind  their  frame,  for  instance ;  and 
the  plaster  cast  of  the  pretty  girl  with 
the  big  hat  and  Parisian  smile.  Then 
Winthrop  remembered  that  these 
same  things  had  served  to  decorate 


The  Black  Sheep. 

the  study  that  he  and  Withers  had 
had  in  common.  Billy  was  at  the 
desk  with  his  coat  off,  engaged  in 
writing,  when  Winthrop  entered. 

"  Be  through  in  a  minute,"  he  said 
to  Winthrop,  "  sit  down." 

There  were  other  fellows  lounging 
about  the  window  seat  and  in  the  big 
chairs — Bellew  and  Rollins  —  "Didn't 
know  Billy  hung  around  with  him" 
Winthrop  thought — little  Jack  Ware 
of  the  Varsity  and  King  Barnes. 

Bellew  had  a  mandolin  and  was  try- 
ing to  play  "  Tis  with  Love,  true 
Love,"  from  ear. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Sportie,  break 
away,  I'm  trying  to  write,"  growled 
his  host,  and  the  music  stopped. 

Presently  the  other  fellows  began  to 
drop  away  with  the  unconventionality 
of  great  familiarity  with  the  room  and 


The  Black  Sheep. 

its  owner,  and  Winthrop  and  Billy 
were  left  alone  together.  Billy  brought 
the  paper,  on  which  he  had  been  writ- 
ing, down  upon  the  blotter.  "  Thank 
the  Lord  that's  through  with,"  he  said. 
"Have  a  pipe?"  He  filled  his  own 
carefully  and  lit  it,  puffing  luxuriously. 
The  two  men  sat  talking  idly  of  unim- 
portant things  until  Winthrop  got  up 
and  said  he  would  have  to  be  going. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said,  as  if  he  had 
just  remembered  it — although  they 
both  knew  it  had  been  the  reason  for 
his  coming — "my  mother  wants  to 
know  if  you  will  drive  with  us  to  the 
game  to-morrow."  It  rather  pleased 
Withers  that  they  wanted  him  to  be 
with  them,  and  he  accepted  without 
any  hesitation.  If  he  had  had  time  to 
think  about  it  he  would  have  refused, 
probably. 

23 


The  Black  Sheep. 

"  Yes,  he'll  go,"  Winthrop  told  his 
mother  later.  "And  we'll  have  to  start 
early,  because  there's  going  to  be  a 
crowd." 

"  Worth,"  his  sister  said,  "  what  is 
the  Band  of  Mercy,  or  is  that  one  of 
the  things  I  oughtn't  to  ask  about  ?  " 

"  Where  did  you  hear  of  the  Band 
of  Mercy?"  asked  Winthrop  quickly. 

"  I  saw  it  in  the  Gul.  and  was  inter- 
ested, because  Mr.  Withers'  name  was 
in  the  list." 

"  Oh,  it's  a  sort  of  club,"  her  brother 
answered  —  "a crowd  of  fellows,  rather, 
who  go  together  a  good  deal." 

"  Did  you  want  to  be  in  it  ? "  in- 
quired Elsie  with  sisterly  directness. 

Winthrop  laughed. 

"  Under  the  circumstances,  no,"  he 
said.  "  It's  really  not  an  organization 
anyhow,  but  merely  a  crowd  of  con- 
24 


The  Black  Sheep. 

genial  fellows  who  trot  about  together 
and  call  themselves  '  The  Band  of 
Mercy/  as  a  sort  of  joke.  There  are 
half  a  dozen  or  so  of  them  ;  Barnes 
and  Bellew  — 

"  Bellew,  Bellew?"  Elsie  broke  in. 
Somehow  the  mention  of  the  name 
had  stirred  a  chord  of  memory.  "  Bel- 
lew —  why,  that  is  the  name  they  were 
singing." 

"Who  were  singing?"  asked  her 
brother. 

"  Oh,  nothing;  I  was  just  trying  to 
remember  something,"  Elsie  answered 
quickly. 

When  she  was  alone  she  sat  down  to 
think.  "  So  those  are  his  friends,"  she 
said ;  "  those  men  who  were  drunk, 
and  perhaps  he,  too,  that  very  night, 
with  them."  And  she  hid  her  face 
in  her  hands.  That  was  because  she 
25 


The  Black  Sheep. 

was  very  young  and  a  girl  into  the 
bargain. 

The  game  was  a  great  success, —  at 
least  from  the  Williams  standpoint, 
and  after  the  crowd  had  cheered  and 
cheered  again,  they  streamed  up  across 
the  field  and  over  the  old  Campus  to 
the  Morgan  terrace  for  more  cheering. 

Elsie  watched  it  all  with  great 
excitement ;  it  was  very  inspiring ; 
the  cheers,  the  songs,  the  clanging  of 
the  chapel  bell ;  the  crowds  of  hot  but 
enthusiastic  "  heelers,"  and  she  en- 
joyed it  all.  It  gave  Withers  an  odd 
little  thrill  of  pleasure  when  she  asked 
if  this  was  the  first  game  we  had  won. 
She  had  puzzled  him  to-day;  there 
had  come  between  them  a  sort  of  con- 
straint and  self-consciousness.  Of 
course,  he  could  not  explain  it,  nor 
could  Elsie  either,  only  she  was  aware 
26 


The  Black  Sheep. 

that  it  was  there.  Withers  thought  of 
her  as  he  went  up  to  dinner.  How 
pretty  she  was!  He  wondered  why 
all  girls  didn't  dress  as  she  did.  She 
wore  awfully  pretty  dresses,  Withers 
decided.  And  how  different  she  was 
from  all  the  others !  The  others— With- 
ers  thought  of  some  of  them  and 
called  himself  a  beast.  Then  he  be- 
gan to  think  of  the  game,  and  remem- 
bered again  the  twenty-five  dollars  he 
had  won. 

There  was  a  special  "  Thanksgiving 
meeting  "of  the  Band  of  Mercy  that 
night.  It  was  very  long,  and  there 
was  much  business  transacted.  Billy 
Withers  was  there.  Indeed,  there  is 
no  telling  how  long  he  might  have  re- 
mained if  King  Barnes,  just  as  the 
dawn  was  breaking,  had  not  brought 
him  home  and  put  him  to  bed. 
27 


The  Black  Sheep. 

Of  course,  the  next  morning  the 
usual  occurred.  It  began  when  With- 
ers, with  a  sick  pain  in  the  back  of  his 
head  and  dizzy  eyes,  staggered  into 
his  study  from  his  bedroom  and  found 
there  on  the  desk,  where  he  had 
thrown  it  the  night  before,  a  crumpled, 
purple  ribbon  that  she  had  worn.  It 
deepened  during  the  weary  round  of 
morning  recitations.  Sportie  Bellew's 
facetious  observations  on  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  night  before  were  not  re- 
ceived amicably.  The  other  fellows, 
seeing  that  he  had  a  grouch,  kindly 
left  him  alone. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  Withers' 
meditations  took  shape  and  were  put 
into  action.  He  went  up  to  the  Grey- 
lock  with  a  determination  to  tell  her 
exactly  what  a  beast  he  had  made  of 
himself ;  that  he  wasn't  worthy  to 
28 


The  Black  Sheep. 

touch  her  hand ;  that  he  wanted  her 
to  give  him  another  chance,  and  other 
confessions  which  would,  no  doubt, 
have  been  good  for  his  soul,  but  were 
exceedingly  hard  to  put  into  words. 
Unfortunately,  there  was  a  dapper 
little  freshman  calling  on  Miss  Win- 
throp  at  the  same  time,  and  Billy's 
confessions  had  to  be  postponed. 
Perhaps  the  walk  in  the  fresh  spring 
air  had  done  him  good  ;  at  any  rate, 
he  was  rather  glad  that  the  little 
freshman  had  been  there,  when  he  re- 
flected on  the  matter  as  he  walked 
back  to  the  colleges. 

There  were  a  lot  of  seniors  singing 
on  the  Morgan  steps,  but  he  did  not 
care  to  join  them.  He  saw  Win- 
throp  among  them,  and  somehow  he 
did  not  feel  like  having  to  talk  to 
Winthrop  just  then. 
29 


The  Black  Sheep. 

Meanwhile  Elsie  had  been  coming  to 
conclusions.  Perhaps  her  brother  had 
told  her  more  than  he  had  realized,  in 
answering  some  of  her  questions. 

To  think  with  Elsie  Winthrop  was 
to  act.  But  what  could  she  do,  she 
asked  herself,  in  something  like  de- 
spair. There  was  no  one  to  tell  her 
what  to  do;  it  seemed  almost  hope- 
less. And  yet  she  must  do  some- 
thing. When  she  thought  of  the  hero 
she  had  made  of  him  for  so  long  she 
wanted  to  laugh  at  herself,  but  even 
with  the  thought  came  a  sense  of  tri- 
umph in  the  possibility  of  her  helping 
him,  "  Even  though  he  never  knows," 
she  told  herself, —  "  or  cares." 

We   play    our  parts   in  the   human 

comedy  so  completely  sometimes  that 

we  lose  ourselves  in  them,  and  begin 

to  think  that  we  are  no  longer  actors 

30 


The  Black  Sheep. 

but  masters  of  destiny.  And  then 
Fate  pulls  the  strings,  and  we  remem- 
ber that  we  are  only  puppets  after 
all,  and  must  follow  the  stage  direc- 
tions. 

Withers  had  grown  inexplicable  to 
his  friends.  The  Band  of  Mercy 
frankly  admitted  that  it  was  puzzled. 
"  It's  some  confounded  girl,"  said  the 
gallant  Hollins. 

"  Clever  boy,"  Barnes  answered. 
"  How  did  you  guess  it  ?  " 

Hollins  met  Withers  and  Miss  Win- 
throp  on  the  Stone  Hill  road  the  next 
day,  and  began  to  see  that  Barnes 
had  been  sarcastic.  When  they  re- 
proached him  with  having  shaken  his 
old  comrades,  Billy  only  laughed  and 
told  them  not  to  make  that  mistake. 

The  college  year  was  drawing  to  an 
end.  The  senior  exams,  came,  and 


The  Black  Sheep. 

Billy  Withers,  to  his  own  and  every 
one  else's  surprise,  passed  them  all. 
Maybe  that  was  because  Elsie  read 
all  her  brother's  careful  notes  to  him 
and  heard  him  go  through  yards  of 
Sandy's  syllabus,  headings  and  sub- 
headings, points  and  by-points.  The 
last  days  were  bringing  the  little 
cliques  of  men  closer  together.  It 
was  almost  pathetic  to  see  how  each 
one  tried  to  get  as  much  out  of  every- 
thing as  possible. 

The  King  and  Bellew  and  Hollins 
were  planning  for  a  last  blow  out  of 
the  Band  f  Mercy.  They  were  talk- 
ing it  ovet  one  morning  on  the  Grey- 
lock  piazza.. 

"It  had  better  be  to-night,"  the 
King  said,  "  I'll  telephone  over  now." 

"  Tell  him  we  don't  want  American 
this  time,"  said  Bellew. 
32 


The  Black  Sheep. 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  we  can  get 
Billy  Withers  ?  He  ought  to  go  if  it's 
the  last  time,"  Hollins  said. 

At  the  sound  of  the  name  a  pretty 
girl  sitting  next  to  him,  put  down  the 
embroidery  she  was  working  with  and 
leaned  a  little  nearer. 

"  We'll  make  him.  It  'Can  be  his 
farewell  performance,  but  he's  got  to 
go,"  the  King  said. 

"  What  time  do  you  start.     Five  ?  " 

"Yes,  its  better  to  get  over  there 
early." 

Elsie  Winthrop's  heart  was  beating 
quicker  as  she  went  into  the  hotel. 
She  had  decided  on  her  course  of 
action.  It  was  for  the  last  time  as 
they  said.  But  could  she  do  it  ? 

Withers  found  a  note  on  his  desk 
when  he  came  back  from  lunch. 

It  read : 

33 


The  Black  Sheep. 

"DEAR  BILLY.— I  want  to  go  up 
through  the  other  glen  this  afternoon, 
to  find  maiden-hair.  But  I  don't 
want  to  go  alone.  Will  you  not  come 
with  me  ?  Besides,  I  want  to  see  you 
about  something.  Come  about  four. 
"  Always  yours  faithfully, 

"  ELSIE  COPE  WINTHROP." 

Barnes  and  Bellew  came  in  just 
then  and  unfolded  their  plan  for  the 
evening. 

"  Of  course  you're  with  us,  Billy," 
the  King  said. 

"  I  don't  believe  —  "  Billy  began. 

Bellew  interrupted :  "  Look  here, 
Billy,  it's  the  last  time,  you  know,  that 
we're  going  to  be  together.  You 
aren't  going  to  back  out  and  spoil 
every  thing  at  the  very  end  of  it  all, 
are  you  ?  " 

Withers  looked  out  of  the  window 
34 


The  Black  Sheep. 

for  a  moment.  It  did  seem  like  going 
back  on  them,  and  they  had  been 
his  friends.  Besides  — 

"What  time  do  you  start?"  he 
asked. 

"  At  five  from  Tom's,"  Bellew 
answered. 

"  If  I'm  not  there  at  five  don't  wait 
for  me,"  he  said.  And  they  parted. 

It  was  a  strange  afternoon  for 
Withers, —  an  afternoon  of  more 
serious  thinking  than  he  had  ever 
known.  It  was  a  time  when  he  spread 
out  his  whole  life  before  his  judgment, 
and  calmly,  coldly,  almost,  decided 
between  the  good  and  the  evil  in  it, — 
the  worth  while  and  the  worthless. 
He  seemed  to  look  into  the  face  of  all 
his  possibilities,  and  he  knew  exactly 
where  he  stood.  But  the  old  habit 
clung ;  it  is  not  so  easy  to  relinquish 
35 


The  Black  Sheep. 

one's  pleasant  lawlessness  that  the 
sacrifice  does  not  bring  a  struggle. 
Which  should  it  be  ?  It  was  for  him 
to  choose  which.  And  before  he  could 
decide  it  was  four  o'clock,  and  he  was 
on  his  way  to  the  Greylock.  Though 
neither  knew  it  of  the  other,  each  was 
passing  through  a  strange  and  new 
phase  of  life  that  warm,  still  after- 
noon, up  under  the  wood  shadows. 
They  talked  of  the  little  things  about 
them,  and  if  a  deeper  note  was  struck 
by  chance,  they  both  went  back  again 
to  the  old  careless  mood  as  if  they 
dared  not  trust  themselves.  The 
light  grew  fainter  and  they  turned 
homeward.  Withers  glanced  at  his 
watch  as  he  walked ;  he  could  just 
get  to  Tom's  on  time  if  he  hurried. 
For  one  mad  moment  he  thought  of 
leaving  her  there  alone  and  run- 
36 


The  Black  Sheep. 

ning  on   to  catch   them   before   they 
started. 

Perhaps  the  other  understood  from 
the  look  in  his  face  what  was  passing 

in  his   mind.     She    felt  the  time  had 

\ 

come. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  she  said,  try- 
ing not  to  appear  conscious,  "  that  va- 
cation you  spent  with  us?  I  shall 
never  forget  it.  You  were  the  first 
college  man  I  had  ever  met,  and  some- 
how, of  course  it  was  absurd  of  me, 
but  I  invested  you  with  all  the  quali- 
ties I  had  dreamed  of.  You  were  a 
sort  of  hero,  who  couldn't  do  anything 
evil  or  weak  or  unmanly  — "  her  voice 
trembled  a  little.  "  I  was  away  at 
school  then,  you  know,  and  I  used  to 
have  your  picture  —  a  little  kodak 
Worth,  took  of  you,  in  a  purple 
frame  —  there  in  my  room.  It  was 
37 


The  Black  Sheep. 

foolish  and  young,  of  course,  yet  it 
can't  be  so  bad  for  a  man  to  have  a 
girl's  reverence  and  trust  like  that, 
can  it?  " 

They  were  standing  on  a  little  hill 
through  which  the  roadway  made  a 
sharp  cut.  As  they  stood  there  a 
three-seater  passed  beneath  them. 
Some  of  the  fellows  in  it  looked  up 
and,  recognizing  Withers,  bowed. 

"  Who  are  they  ?  "  Elsie  asked.  Her 
heart  was  beating  so  she  could  hardly 
speak. 

Withers  watched  the  yellow  carriage 
until  it  disappeared  around  a  sudden 
turn. 

"  Oh,  some  fellows  I  knew  once,"  he 
said  slowly,  after  a  pause. 

And  then  he  raised  her  hand  to  his 
lips  and  kissed  it. 


ODYSSEUS 


39 


Odysseus. 


"117" HEN  Perkins  was  a  freshman, 
circumstances  over  which  he 
had  no  control  forced  him  into  the 
society  of  Cecil  Bancroft,  the  profes- 
sor of  the  Greek  language  and  litera- 
ture. He  not  only  met  him  with  the 
rest  of  the  class  during  the  hours  regu- 
larly devoted  to  the  study  of  "  Fresh- 
man Required,"  but  on  several  occa- 
sions he  was  invited  to  be  present  at 
smaller  and  more  select  affairs,  known 
to  the  initiated  as  "  make  ups." 

However,  Perkins  was  an  affable  in- 
dividual, and  he  so  conducted  himself 
during  his  enforced  attendance  at  these 
gatherings  that  they  lost  much  of  their 


Odysseus. 

disagreeable  character,  and  partook 
more  of  the  nature  of  informal  Hel- 
lenic afternoon  receptions,  with  the  re- 
freshments omitted.  One  day,  at  the 
close  of  a  long  conversation,  which  be- 
gan with  some  remarks  on  the  necessity 
of  his  maintaining  a  better  average  in 
Greek,  and  closed  with  the  discussion 
of  a  common  friend,  the  principal  of 
Perkins'  prep,  school,  the  Professor 
asked  him  to  call ;  and  the  call  was 
the  beginning  of  a  very  pleasant 
friendship,  which  lasted  during  the  re- 
mainder of  his  college  course. 

After  a  while  it  became  an  under- 
stood thing  that  once  or  twice  a  term 
Perkins  should  dine  with  the  Profes- 
sor ;  and  he  frequently,  at  the  invita- 
tion of  Mrs.  Bancroft,  attended  faculty 
teas;  exciting  affairs,  where  the  pro- 
fessors' wives  assembled  and  met  to- 
42 


Odysseus. 

gether,  apparently  in  order  to  discuss 
the  difficulty  of  inducing  competent 
cooks  to  remain  in  Williamstown. 

It  was  during  the  winter  term  of  his 
senior  year  that  Perkins  met  the  hero 
of  this  tale,  and  the  circumstances  of 
the  meeting  were  as  follows :  He  had 
been  dining  with  the  Professor,  dinner 
was  just  over,  and  Perkins  and  his  host 
were  lighting  cigars,  at  the  urgent  re- 
quest of  Mrs.  Bancroft,  who  was  one 
of  those  unselfish  women  who  profess 
a  fondness  for  tobacco  smoke. 

Suddenly  something  was  heard 
scratching  in  the  next  room,  and, 
when  the  door  was  opened,  there  en- 
tered a  large  black  and  white  cat. 

"Isn't  this  something  new?"  asked 
Perkins,  "  I  don't  remember  seeing 
that  cat  before." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Bancroft, 
43 


Odysseus. 

"we've  only  had  him  a  short  time; 
I  must  introduce  you.  Mr.  Perkins, 
may  I  present  my  friend,  Odysseus  ? 
Odysseus,  this  is  Mr.  Perkins." 

"  What  a  curious  name  for  a  cat," 
said  Perkins,  laughing.  "  How  did  you 
happen  to  give  it  to  him  ?  " 

"  That  is  an  idea  of  mine,"  explained 
the  Professor ;  "  I  call  him  Odysseus 
because  he  is  so  seldom  at  home." 

"  He's  a  handsome  beast  at  any  rate," 
answered  Perkins,  and,  stooping  down, 
he  lifted  the  animal  into  his  lap.  Odys- 
seus at  first  objected,  but  finally  be- 
came reconciled  to  his  position,  and 
purred  loudly  as  Perkins  stroked  his 
thick  fur. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Professor,  taking  up 
the  conversation  again  where  it  had 
been  interrupted,  "  I  have  always  main- 
tained that  this  growing  neglect  of  the 
44 


Odysseus. 

classics  is  one  of  the  worst  tendencies 
of  modern  education.  Now,  take  the 
study  of  Homer.  What  could  be  more 

?  I  beg  your  pardon!  Did  you 

say  anything?" 

"  Oh,  no !  nothing  at  all ;  I  quite 
agree  with  you,"  answered  Perkins,  con- 
fusedly, and  he  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief 
as  the  Professor  mounted  his  hobby 
afresh  and  ambled  pleasantly  on.  For 
Perkins  had  made  a  discovery. 

In  stroking  the  cat  his  hand  had  en- 
countered what  seemed  like  a  hard 
lump  under  the  skin  of  the  fore  leg. 
He  felt  of  it  first  curiously,  then  ex- 
citedly, then  triumphantly.  Yes,  there 
could  be  no  doubt  about  it,  the  two 
bones  of  the  antebrachium  had  been 
ossified  into  one,  either  naturally  or  as 
the  result  of  some  accident.  There 
was  a  thick  ridge  running  completely 
45 


Odysseus. 

around  the  limb.  Only  that  morning 
Professor  Clarkson  had  lectured  on  the 
fusion  of  bones,  and  here  was  a  splen- 
did example  of  that  very  thing. 

Perkins  intended  to  be  a  surgeon, 
and  was  devoting  himself  to  biology 
with  an  energy  which  partially  atoned 
for  the  neglect  of  his  other  studies. 
He  felt  a  wave  of  professional  enthu- 
siasm rise  in  his  heart.  What  a  chance 
for  original  investigation!  Such  cases 
he  knew  were  rare,  and  he  might  never 
have  this  opportunity  again.  Clearly, 
Odysseus  must  be  sacrificed  on  the  altar 
of  science. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  beg  the  cat 
from  the  Professor.  Then  he  remem- 
bered that  Mrs.  Bancroft  was  probably 
fond  of  the  animal,  and  might  not  be 
willing  to  part  with  him.  Perkins  re- 
flected. There  are,  proverbially,  three 
46 


Odysseus. 

ways  of  obtaining  anything:  we  may 
beg,  borrow  or  steal.  Begging  was,  to 
say  the  least,  very  uncertain  ;  borrow- 
ing was  clearly  out  of  the  question. 
By  the  process  of  elimination  Perkins 
felt  himself  forced  to  adopt  the  third 
method. 

But  to  return  a  man's  hospitality 
by  stealing  his  cat !  The  baseness  of 
it  daunted  him.  He  felt  cautiously  of 
the  limb.  Yes,  the  bones  were  clearly 
ossified.  "  Besides,"  whispered  the 
tempter,  "  you  can  easily  give  Mrs. 
Bancroft  another  cat."  He  cast  his 
scruples  to  the  winds  and  began  to 
consider  how  the  theft  might  best  be 
accomplished. 

By  skillful  and  apparently  innocent 

inquiries  about  the  habits  of  Odysseus, 

he  learned  that  the  cat  was  accustomed 

to  leave  the  house  at  night  and  wander 

47 


Odysseus. 

forth  on  mysterious  nocturnal  enter- 
prises. In  the  morning  he  would 
always  be  found  asleep  in  a  particular 
corner  of  the  kitchen.  How  he  got  in 
and  out  of  the  house,  and  what  he  did 
during  his  wanderings,  no  one  had 
been  able  to  discover. 

Having  learned  these  facts,  Perkins 
was  not  long  in  resolving  on  a  plan  of 
action,  and  about  ten  o'clock  he  said 
"  good  night  "  and  departed.  As  long 
as  he  thought  the  Professor  was  watch- 
ing him  he  walked  steadily  in  the  di- 
rection of  Morgan  Hall.  Then,  when 
he  heard  the  front  door  close,  he  re- 
turned cautiously  and  began  a  careful 
patrol  of  the  garden,  watching  both 
the  front  and  rear  of  the  house. 

Ten  minutes  passed  —  fifteen  — 
twenty  —  and  still  no  Odysseus.  It 
was  very  cold  standing  there  in  the 
48 


Odysseus. 

snow,  and  he  felt  his  first  scruples  re- 
turning. After  all,  it  was  not  a  very 
nice  thing  to  steal  the  cat.  It  was  cer- 
tainly a  poor  return  for  the  good  din- 
ner he  had  just  eaten.  He  would  go 
around  in  the  morning  and  ask  the 
Professor  to  give  him  Odysseus,  offer- 
ing in  exchange  another  and  more  valu- 
able cat.  Yes,  that  was  certainly  the 
better  plan. 

Suddenly  he  started!  Thirty  yards 
away  a  dark  object  was  slowly  moving 
across  the  snow.  He  gave  a  suppressed 
whoop  and  dashed  off  in  pursuit.  The 
snow  was  very  soft  and  deep  so  that 
Odysseus  could  only  flounder  slowly 
along,  and  in  a  minute  Perkins  had 
him  by  the  neck.  But  this  had  not 
been  accomplished  without  a  struggle 
and  considerable  noise;  and  just  as  he 
was  about  to  stifle  the  yowls  of  the 
49 


Odysseus. 

animal  in  the  folds  of  his  ulster,  the 
door  of  the  house  opened  and  the  Pro- 
fessor appeared. 

"  Who's  that  ?."  he  called  out.  "  What 
are  you  doing  there  ? "  And  then, 
receiving  no  answer,  he  started  to 
investigate. 

But  Perkins  waited  not.  Holding 
his  hat  with  one  hand,  and  grasping 
the  loudly  protesting  Odysseus  with 
the  other,  he  rushed  wildly  away,  and 
disappeared  from  the  sight  of  the  be- 
wildered Professor  behind  a  clump  of 
trees. 

The  next  morning  Perkins  was  bend- 
ing over  all  that  remained  of  the  un- 
lucky cat.  The  fusion  of  the  bones 
had  been  perfect,  and  he  eagerly  dis- 
sected away  the  muscles  in  order  to 
get  a  better  view  of  it.  Suddenly  the 
5° 


Odysseus. 

scalpel  fell  from  his  hand,  and  he 
jumped  violently  as  the  mild  voice 
of  the  Greek  Professor  said  close  to 
his  ear — "I  was  showing  Professor 
Cuttin  of  Harvard  through  the  labor- 
atory, Mr.  Perkins,  and  I  thought 
perhaps  he  might  be  interested  in 
your  work." 

For  the  life  of  him,  Perkins  could 
not  say  a  word.  He  had  a  wild  im- 
pulse to  throw  the  cat  out  of  the  win- 
dow, but  the  Professor  had  stepped 
between  him  and  the  table.  "  What 
are  you  working  on  ?  "  he  asked,  and 
bent  down  to  examine  the  animal  in 
the  dissecting  tray.  Alas !  there  was 
no  mistaking  the  black  and  white  fur 
and  the  little  dark  spot  on  the  tip  of 
the  tail.  The  Professor  rubbed  his 
eyes  and  looked  again.  Yes,  that  was 
certainly  Odysseus. 
51 


Odysseus. 

Some  men  would  have  laughed, 
others  would  have  become  angry ;  the 
Professor  did  neither.  "  I  should  have 
told  you,"  he  remarked  pleasantly  to 
the  visitor,  "  that  Mr.  Perkins  is  one  of 
our  most  zealous  students  of  Biology." 


THE  SIN  OF  HOLY  HEDGES 


33 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 


T  T  EDGES  was  grinding  Greek,  as 
usual,  in  his  room  in  East.  Out- 
spread on  the  desk  before  him  lay  his 
Sophocles,  directly  in  the  range  of  the 
big,  round  spectacles ;  on  one  side  of 
the  old  Grecian  his  Liddell  and  Scott, 
to  purchase  which  he  had  denied  him- 
self the  necessities  of  life  (that  is,  the 
apparent  necessities),  and  on  the  other 
side  a  translation  —  closed.  In  fact, 
the  latter  was  destined  to  be  opened 
not  more  than  half  a  dozen  times  at  the 
most  during  the  evening,  for  Hedges 
was  one  of  those  strong-minded  young 
men  who  are  able  to  keep  a  trot  to  use 
only  in  cases  of  absolute  need,  when 
the  underbrush  of  idiomatic  construc- 
55 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

tions  gets  so  inextricably  tangled  as  to 
require  Gordian  methods.  This  was 
Hedges'  strong  point,  self-restraint. 

He  was  probably  the  only  man  in 
East  who  was  grinding  at  that  time. 
It  was  one  of  those  soft,  mild  nights, 
infrequent  enough  in  the  early  Berk- 
shire springtime,  that,  when  they  come, 
seem  to  inspire  a  sort  of  complacent 
laziness  quite  irresistible.  But  there 
was  another  reason ;  quite  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  fellows  had  left  town  for 
Amherst,  to  witness  a  championship 
game,  and  those  that  had  remained 
had  scarcely  as  yet  recovered  from  the 
epidemic  of  enthusiasm  and  cheering 
which  the  telegram,  just  received  from 
the  seat  of  war  and  bulletined  in  Wat: 
son's,  had  inaugurated.  Occasionally 
still  a  straggling  "  Yums !  Yams ! 
Yums ! "  from  some  irrepressible  was 
56 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

borne  in  to  Hedges  as  he  sat  at  his 
desk.  But  the  big  spectacles  remained 
persistently  focused  on  the  Sophocles. 

Presently  there  was  a  series  of  kicks 
on  the  door,  evidently  in  place  of 
knocks,  and  a  moment  later,  before 
Hedges  had  a  chance  to  respond  to 
them,  a  youth  in  a  golf  suit,  with  a 
pipe  of  sophomorical  dimensions  in 
his  mouth,  entered  the  room. 

"  Hello  !  grubbing?"  cried  the  new- 
comer, in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  won't  you  sit  down,  Bald- 
win ?  "  said  Hedges,  in  his  formal  way. 

Baldwin  complied  with  the  spirit,  if 
not  with  the  letter  of  the  request,  by 
flinging  himself  on  the  divan  and  blow- 
ing smoke  rings  out  of  the  window  into 
the  darkness. 

"  Say,  old  man,"  he  began,  "we  want 
you  to  come  along  later  and  help  us 
57 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

root  out  the  freshmen  and  make  'em 
pull  up  the  team.  It's  a  glorious  vic- 
tory, and  it'll  give  'em  a  chance  to 
show  their  college  spirit  —  if  they  have 
any,  which  I  doubt."  Both  fellows 
were  sophomores.  "  And,  by  the  way, 
you'll  probably  be  needed  to  dock 
that  precious  room-mate  of  yours," 
he  added  with  a  laugh.  "  He  went 
down,  didn't  he?  " 

"  Yes,  he  went,"  answered  the  other, 
shortly. 

Baldwin  looked  at  his  classmate  with 
amusement.  He  felt  tempted  to  jolly 
Hedges  about  exerting  his  influence 
on  the  erring  one,  but  he  looked  at  the 
firmly  closed  lips,  and  thought  he  had 
better  not.  They  talked  for  a  few  min- 
utes about  the  game,  the  prospect  for 
another  championship  that  year,  and, 
after  Hedges  had  renewed  his  promise 
58 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

to  aid  in  getting  out  the  freshmen, 
Baldwin  left  to  continue  his  self-ap- 
pointed mission  among  his  classmates. 

Hedges  did  not  relish  Baldwin's  re- 
mark about  his  room-mate,  though  it 
was  not  because  he  thought  the 
prophesy  would  prove  a  false  one ; 
quite  the  contrary.  But  it  hurt  him 
to  have  the  matter  spoken  of  in  such  a 
flippant  way,  as  if  it  were  of  no  conse- 
quence. Perhaps  he  imagined  a  sneer 
in  Baldwin's  laugh,  which  there  prob- 
ably was  not.  It  was  a  sore  point  with 
Hedges,  his  room-mate's  waywardness. 
He  was  an  older  man  than  Jamieson, 
and  he  felt  that  he  ought  to  have  some 
influence  over  him.  But  he  had  none, 
that  was  certain. 

He  and  Jamieson  had  been  friends 
together  at  prep,  school.  There  they 
were  much  the  same  sort  of  fellows; 
59 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

they  had  similar  pursuits  and  similar 
aims ;  at  least  there  was  no  such 
divergence  in  their  manner  of  life 
as  was  noticeable  now  at  the  end 
of  sophomore  year.  But,  perhaps, 
that  was  due  more  to  the  force  of 
external  circumstances  than  to  inner 
tendencies. 

Mount  Lebanon  was  of  that  species 
of  boys'  schools  which  aim  not  only  to 
give  the  youth  the  requisite  prepara- 
tion for  admission  to  college,  but  also 
attempt  the  more  difficult  task  of  im- 
parting a  moral  impetus,  calculated  to 
carry  him  safely  through  the  manifold 
temptations  which  may  assail  him  later 
in  his  course.  Their  motto  is  :  "  As 
the  twig  is  bent  so  will  the  tree  in- 
cline ; "  and  the  twigs  are  bent  with  a 
vengeance.  Result,  you  have  a  model 
set  of  young  men  entering  college  from 
60 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

these  institutions  —  sometimes.  Yet, 
frequently,  the  result  seems  to  be  quite 
the  reverse  of  the  one  contemplated. 
Restraint  being  removed,  some  of  the 
young  saplings,  it  is  true,  remain  do- 
cilely bent ;  but  others  revert  to  the 
obstinately  vertical  position  of  origi- 
nal sin  —  and  often  with  remarkable 
quickness. 

Jamieson  was  one  of  the  latter  sort. 
When  he  came  to  college  he  was  like 
Mr.  Seaman's  unfortunate  poetess  ;  he 
was  in  Eve's  predicament,  and  would 
not  be  happy  till  he'd  sinned.  He  was 
in  a  mood  of  revolt.  No  more  of  the 
namby  pambyism  of  Mount  Lebanon 
for  him.  In  short,  he  felt  it  was  obli- 
gatory on  him,  as  a  young  man  who 
had  become  his  own  master,  to  sow  a 
few  wild  oats,  and  he  had  been  sowing 
assiduously  now  for  nearly  two  years. 
61 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

He  would  tire  of  it  before  long,  most 
likely,  but  while  the  process  continued 
it  was  very  trying  for  his  conscientious 
friend. 

For  Hedges,  college  was  a  serious 
matter,  a  matter  of  opportunities  and 
duties.  He  labored  under  the  delusion 
that  one  comes  to  college  primarily  to 
study ;  an  heretical  doctrine  among 
undergraduates,  though  many  can 
always  be  found  who  are  more  or  less 
guilty  of  putting  it  into  practice  — 
secretly,  if  not  openly.  And  then 
there  were  Y.  M.  C.  A.  meetings  and 
class  prayer  meetings,  opportunities 
not  to  be  neglected.  To  teach  Sunday 
school  in  the  little  school  house  up  on 
North  West  Hill  was  another  opportu- 
nity, and  every  Sunday  afternoon,  rain 
or  shine,  found  Hedges  with  Bible  and 

Peloubet  under  his  arm  setting  out  on 
62 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

his  three-mile  tramp  with  the  enthusi- 
asm of  a  missionary  in  his  heart.  All 
this  was  easy  enough  ;  Hedges  took  to 
it  like  a  duck  to  water.  But  some 
things  he  found  hard  to  do.  It  was 
not  easy,  for  instance,  to  get  up  and 
leave  a  dormitory  room  when  the  rep- 
artee got  a  little  coarse,  or  the  anec- 
dotes a  trifle  risque  ;  and  it  was  harder 
still  to  know  that  one  was  called  Holy 
Hedges  in  consequence,  for  Hedges 
was  quite  human  under  his  prematurely 
ministerial  air.  But  hardest  of  all 
perhaps,  it  was  to  shut  his  lips  tightly 
together  and  say  nothing  when  he  saw 
his  friend  doing  things  he  should  not. 
But  Hedges  did  all  these  and  other  hard 
things,  because  he  considered  it  his 
duty  to  do  them  —  and  Hedges  always 
did  his  duty  at  any  cost. 

Towards   half-past   ten  a  crowd   of 
63 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

sophomores  came  through  East,  mak- 
ing as  much  noise  as  possible,  and  inci- 
dentally assuring  themselves  that  all 
the  freshmen  were  out  and  ready  to 
pull  up  the  team.  They  rushed  up  the 
stairs  shouting  "All  out !  "  a  great  many 
times,  and  making  considerable  need- 
less racket  with  their  feet.  On  the  top 
floor  some  one  found  two  ash  cans  that 
had  been  left  out  of  the  rooms  inad- 
vertently, and  down  stairs  they  were 
sent,  making  the  noise  of  a  dozen  boiler 
shops  on  the  iron  sheathing  of  the 
steps.  On  the  floor  below,  some  one 
else,  whose  brains  had  just  escaped 
being  knocked  out  by  the  cans  in  their 
mad  career,  picked  them  up  and  sent 
them  down  another  flight.  This  was 
celebrating  the  glorious  victory. 

Some  one  began  kicking  mightily  at 
the  door  of  the  room  next  to  that  of 
64 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

Hedges.  "  Get  to  hell  out,  you  sleepy 
freshman,"  he  shouted.  Potter,  blase* 
youth  that  he  was,  had  gone  to  bed 
some  time  since,  remarking  that  he'd 
a  hang  sight  rather  be  sleeping  at  mid- 
night than  pulling  those  lazy  beggars 
up  Consumption  Hill.  But  the  invita- 
tion of  the  enthusiastic  committee  was 
urgent,  punctuated  as  it  was  with  vigor- 
ous kicks  that  tested  the  strength  of 
his  oak,  and  was  not  to  be  slighted. 
At  first  Potter  pretended  to  be  asleep, 
but  at  last  when  the  lock  seemed  about 
ready  to  break  at  any  moment,  a  stone 
came  cleanly  through  his  window  and 
landed  in  his  wash  bowl,  deciding  him 
that  it  was  necessary  to  capitulate. 
"All  right,"  he  grunted,  "just  let  me 
get  my  clothes  on,  can't  you  ?  "  And 
he  began  tumbling  into  his  trousers, 
boots  and  sweater. 
65 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

Baldwin  opened  Hedges'  door. 
"  Come  on,"  he  shouted,  and  slammed 
the  door  again. 

Hedges  waited  five  minutes  to  finish 
the  work  he  was  engaged  upon,  and 
then  got  up  from  his  desk  and  began 
to  put  up  his  books  and  get  ready  to 
go  out  to  join  the  crowd  who  were  now 
well  on  their  way  toward  the  station. 
He  had  just  completed  an  orderly 
arrangement  of  the  things  on  his  desk 
when  he  heard  a  light  tap  on  his  door. 

"  Come  in,"  he  shouted  somewhat 
crossly.  This  going  down  to  meet  the 
team  was  a  rather  foolish  business  any- 
way. A  moment  later  the  door  was 
opened  and  an  elderly  man  entered, 
followed  by  a  slender  girl  of  sixteen  or 
seventeen. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  not  coming 
to  the  door,"  said  Hedges,  somewhat 
66 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

abashed.  "  I  thought  it  was  one  of 
the  fellows." 

"  So  it  is,"  answered  the  elderly 
gentleman,  "One  of  the  old  fellows  — 
And  you,  I  presume,  are  Mr.  Hedges." 

Hedges  replied    in   the  affirmative. 

"And  you  are  wondering,  I  see,  who 
it  is  that  is  calling  on  you  at  such  an 
unseasonable  hour,"  he  continued,  no- 
ticing the  perplexed  look  on  Hedges' 
face.  "  I  am  Harry  Jamieson's  father, 
and  this  my  daughter,  Dorothy." 

Hedges  shook  hands  with  both  of 
them,  and  begged  them  to  be  seated. 

"  Harry  is  not  in  now,"  he  explained, 
"  in  fact  is  out  of  town.  He  went  to 
Amherst  this  morning  with  the  rest 
to  see  the  game,  and  has  not  got  back 
yet.  I  suppose  he  will  return  with  the 
others  on  the  midnight  train." 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure.  I  had  quite  for- 
67 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

gotten  that  there  was  a  ball  game  at 
Amherst  to-day.  Harry  wrote  that  he 
was  intending  to  go  down  this  year." 
Mr.  Jamieson  took  out  his  watch. 
"  After  eleven,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I 
really  did  not  think  it  was  quite  so 
late  as  that.  We  owe  you  an  apology, 
I  am  sure,  for  intruding  at  such  an 
hour,  but  having  gone  so  far  I  am  go- 
ing to  venture  a  bit  farther,  and  ask 
you  if  we  may  remain  here  till  my  son 
arrives  ?  " 

"Yes,  certainly,"  answered  Hedges. 
If  there  was  any  lack  of  cordiality  in 
the  reply,  Mr.  Jamieson,  evidently,  did 
notice  it. 

He  went  on  to  explain  the  reason 
for  his  visit.  He  had  been  asked  to 
exchange  pulpits  for  the  following  day 
with  the  pastor  of  a  church  in  North 
Adams,  and  so  had  taken  the  occasion 
68 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

to  pay  a  visit  to  Williamstown  at  the 
same  time,  and  to  bring  his  daughter 
with  him,  as  he  had  long  promised 
her.  He  had  written  when  the  ar- 
rangements had  been  completed,  but 
evidently  the  letter  had  not  come 
when  Harry  left  town.  They  had 
come  over  from  North  Adams  a  short 
time  before,  and  were  staying  for  the 
night  at  Prof.  Harvey's,  an  old  friend 
since  the  time  of  college  days.  Late  as 
it  was,  Dorothy  had  insisted  that  they 
should  walk  over  to  the  dormitory,  on 
the  possible  chance  that  Harry  might 
still  be  up.  They  had  seen  the  light 
at  the  window  and  inferred  that  he 
was. 

Hedges  appeared  to  be  listening  to 
Mr.  Jamieson,  but  in   reality  he  was 
paying  little  attention.     He  was  think- 
ing of  Baldwin's  disagreeable  remark 
69 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

about  his  room-mate's  probable  condi- 
tion on  his  return  to  town,  and,  what 
was  more,  he  was  forced  to  admit  that 
his  own  apprehensions  pointed  in  the 
same  direction.  The  victory,  a  close 
one  and  rather  unexpected,  the  crowd 
of  fellows  he  had  gone  with,  everything 
forced  the  conclusion  ;  experience  had 
taught  him  temptations  considerably 
less  strong  than  those  that  lay  in  the 
present  circumstances  would  have  been 
sufficient  to  insure  it.  But  what  could 
he  do  ?  To  tell  the  truth,  it  did  not 
occur  to  him  that  there  was  anything 
he  could  do.  Artifice  of  any  sort  was 
a  thing  so  far  removed  from  Hedges' 
character  that  the  possibility  even  of 
practicing  any  deception  on  the  elder 
Jamieson  did  not  enter  his  mind.  If 
Harry  came  home  drunk  on  the  night 
his  father  and  sister  chose  to  visit  him 
70 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

there  was  nothing  he  could  do  about 
it.  Still,  when  he  pictured  to  himself 
the  scene,  from  the  secular,  so  to  speak, 
and  as  yet  little  explored  region  of  his 
conscience,  a  voice  cried  to  him  that  it 
was  wrong  to  passively  allow  the  catas- 
trophe to  come ;  it  would  be  nothing 
short  of  cruelty  toward  the  father, 
worse  than  cruelty  toward  this  sensi- 
tive girl,  and  rank  infidelity  besides 
toward  his  friend.  But  the  messenger 
did  not  have  the  usual  credentials  — 
and  then  what  could  he  do  anyway  ? 
They  talked  the  usual  common- 
places ;  about  the  beauty  of  the  Berk- 
shire country  in  springtime  ;  the  change 
time  had  made  in  the  college  and  town  ; 
prospective  improvements  and  the  rest. 
Mr.  Jamieson  bore  the  weight  of  the 
conversation  ;  Hedges  felt  in  no  mood 
for  talking,  and  Dorothy,  who  had 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

evidently  been  brought  up  in  the  good 
old-fashioned  rule,  "children  should  be 
seen  and  not  heard,"  gave  herself  up 
to  silent  but  absorbing  observation  of 
the  contents  of  the  room.  Hedges  un- 
consciously tried  to  keep  the  conversa- 
tion impersonal,  but  it  was  in  vain.  It 
was  Harry,  Mr.  Jamieson  was  thinking 
of,  and  of  him  he  was  determined  to 
speak. 

They  had  been  talking  of  the 
many  delightful  walks  the  country 
afforded. 

"The  value  to  a  young  man,"  Mr. 
Jamieson  was  saying,  "  which  a  four 
years'  residence  in  a  college  like  Wil- 
liams has,  lies  of  course,  first  of  all  in 
the  opportunities  for  study  and  intel- 
lectual advancement  which  it  offers. 
First  of  all,  I  repeat,  for  I  have  no  pa- 
tience with  the  men  who  neglect  such 
72 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

opportunities.  Yet  there  are  other 
things,  possibly  of  nearly  as  great  value 
in  the  end,  subtle  influences  which  per- 
vade the  place,  giving  it  its  character, 
and  which  cannot  help  affecting  those 
who  live  here  for  four  years.  One  of 
the  best  of  these,  it  seems  to  me,  is  the 
influence  of  nature.  I  wonder  how 
many  men  it  has  inspired.  If  Bryant 
did  not  write  Thanatopsis  while  sitting 
in  Flora's  Glen,  and  I  believe  the 
higher  criticism  would  have  us  doubt 
the  story,  at  least  he  may  have  been 
inspired  to  do  it  by  a  visit  there  —  at 
any  rate  I  like  to  think  so.  But  there 
is  a  higher  sort  of  inspiration  than  that 
which  results  in  the  expression  of  the 
best  thoughts  in  poetry,  and  that  is  the 
inspiration  which  leads  to  the  forma- 
tion of  high  ideals  which  express  them- 
selves in  right  living.  You  see,  I  can- 
73 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

not  help  preaching,"  he  added,  smiling. 
"  But  I  speak  from  my  own  experience. 
It  was  on  a  trip  up  Greylock,  just  when 
we  entered  the  Hopper  —  I  remember 
the  time  very  well  —  it  was  a  glorious 
autumn  day,  with  the  foliage  as  you 
know  it  —  that  I  finally  decided  to 
make  my  life  work  the  preaching  of 
the  Gospel." 

"  We  hope  Harry  will  choose  the 
ministry,"  said  Dorothy.  It  was  the 
first  time  the  girl  had  spoken,  and  the 
words  were  uttered  almost  unconsci- 
ously. A  few  moments  before,  she  had 
risen  and  become  absorbed  in  looking 
at  a  cluster  of  photographs  over  Harry's 
desk.  Hedges  watched  her  as  she  took 
down  the  two  or  three  pictures  of  her 
brother's  girl  friends  whom  she  evi- 
dently did  not  know,  and  studied  them 
with  tender,  half  jealous  curiosity. 
74 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

The  corporate  interest  which  her  "  we  " 
implied  struck  him  keenly. 

For  a  moment  he  had  a  notion  of 
telling  Mr.  Jamieson,  so  that  he  might 
take  the  girl  away,  but  the  thought  of 
betraying  his  friend,  and  needlessly, 
perhaps,  made  him  hesitate.  He  was 
afraid  of  the  result.  Occasionally 
gleams  of  hardness  and  rigorousness 
had  shown  themselves  in  the  father's 
conversation,  evincing  an  unrelenting 
nature  under  his  apparent  gentleness 
of  manner.  Harry  was  thoughtless, 
but  not  a  bad  fellow  at  heart,  and  an 
over-severe  punishment,  injudiciously 
timed,  might  do  no  end  of  injury.  No, 
he  would  risk  it.  Harry  might  come 
home  all  right.  He  thought  he  had 
seen  in  him  a  growing  weariness  for 
the  sort  of  fun  he  had  been  amusing 
himself  with  —  Hedges  was  a  born 
75 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

physician  of  souls,  and  watched  his 
friend  for  symptoms  continually.  But 
the  hope  had  little  consolation  in  it. 
At  heart  he  did  not  believe  it. 

"  I  suppose  we  old  fellows,"  Mr. 
Jamieson  was  prosing  away,  "  are  in- 
clined to  view  the  past  through  rose- 
colored  spectacles,  but  I,  for  one,  can- 
not help  thinking  that  there  is  not  the 
strong  religious  spirit  pervading  the 
college  life  that  there  used  to  be.  In 
my  day  there  was  much  opposition  to 
religion  from  some  quarters,  but  not 
that  spirit  of  indifference  which  seems 
so  rife  at  present.  An  indifference  in 
matters  of  creed,  if  you  like,  which  is 
sure  to  react  on  morals.  And  indiffer- 
ence is  more  dangerous,  don't  you 
think  so,  than  the  best  directed  oppo- 
sition that  is  open  and  tangible." 

"Yes,     I've    always     thought     so." 
76 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

Hedges  had  made  the  same  criticism 
a  dozen  times,  but  somehow  he  re- 
sented it  now.  It  seemed  a  narrow 
one. 

The  older  man  appeared  to  appreci- 
ate the  unuttered  qualification.  "  I 
may  do  you  injustice,"  he  explained. 
"Young  men  are  not  so  enthusiastic 
about  anything  as  they  were  in  times 
gone  past,  or  at  least  do  not  express 
their  enthusiasm  so  freely.  But,  per- 
haps, the  feeling  is  just  as  strong  as 
ever.  I  hope  so.  Now,  Harry  scarcely 
ever  talks  to  me  of  his  own  accord  on 
religious  subjects.  Yet  he  is  a  good 
boy,  and  I  would  not  like  to  believe 
that  he  does  not  think  about  such 
things." 

Hedges  said  nothing,  and  Mr.  Jamie- 
son  asked  :    "  You  are  intending  enter- 
ing the  ministry,  are  you  not  ?  " 
77 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

"  I  hope  to  be  able  to,"  Hedges 
answered. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  I  understood 
you  were,  and  I  assure  you  I  feel  that 
it  is  very  fortunate  that  my  son  should 
constantly  associate  with  one  who  has 
a  definite,  serious  purpose  in  view. 
Harry  is  only  a  boy,  scarcely  formed 
in  character  yet,  and  he  needs  the  in- 
fluence of  an  older,  steadier  man." 

Hedges  got  up  abruptly  and  went 
to  the  window.  "  They  should  be 
here  in  a  few  minutes,"  he  said. 
Under  the  circumstances,  he  could 
hardly  be  expected  to  relish  the  com- 
pliment. But  there  was  a  keener 
sting  in  the  remark  than  one  would 
perhaps  imagine.  It  forced  the  old 
question  which  he  had  asked  him- 
self so  many  times.  "  If  I  have  no 
influence  over  this  boy  whom  I  know 
78 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

so  well,  how  can  I  expect  to  prevail 
over  strong  men  with  evil  habits,  deep- 
rooted  in  their  natures  ?  "  And  he  had 
no  such  influence,  not  a  particle.  But 
yet  how  could  one  hope  to  gain  effect- 
iveness if  not  by  a  consecration  of  one's 
self  to  the  cause  of  religion  ?  Was  not 
that  the  road  that  had  always  been 
pointed  out  to  him  as  the  only  possible 
one  ?  He  believed  it  was,  himself,  but 
sometimes  there  came  doubts. 

The  Gym.  clock  had  struck  twelve 
some  minutes  before,  and  already 
the  noise  of  fireworks  and  cheering 
could  be  heard  faintly  down  toward 
the  railroad  station.  Mr.  Jamieson 
and  Dorothy  came  and  stood  beside 
Hedges  at  the  window. 

"  There  is  to  be  a  demonstration  on 
account  of  the  victory,"  Hedges  ex- 
plained. "  Almost  every  one  who  re- 
79 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

mained  in  town  has  gone  down  to  the 
station.  The  horses  will  be  unhar- 
nessed from  the  barge  that  brings  up 
the  team,  and  some  of  the  fellows  will 
pull  it  up  to  the  gymnasium,  while  the 
rest  march  along  beside  and  make  as 
much  racket  as  possible.  They  will  be 
in  sight  in  a  moment." 

"Harry  will  be  with  the  rest?" 
Dorothy  asked. 

Hedges  looked  at  her  expectant 
face.  "  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  he  an- 
swered, and  turned  away  quickly. 

By  leaning  out  of  the  window  they 
could  get  a  good  view  of  the  procession, 
if  it  could  be  so  called,  as  it  advanced 
up  Main  street.  The  central  figure 
was  the  barge  containing  the  nine 
heroes  of  the  day  and  the  substitutes, 
who  would  have  been  heroes  if  they 
had  been  given  a  chance.  In  front  of 
80 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

the  barge  was  a  long  line  of  freshmen 
pulling  at  the  rope  which  was  fastened 
to  the  tongue  of  the  wagon.  On  all 
sides,  behind,  before,  in  the  street  and 
on  the  sidewalks,  were  crowds  of  fel- 
lows blowing  tin  horns,  exploding  fire- 
works promiscuously  in  all  directions 
without  regard  for  consequences,  and 
dancing  like  dervishes.  The  air  was 
thick  with  dust  and  gunpowder  smoke, 
and  ruddy  with  colored  fire  ;  the  re- 
markable feat  of  the  "  Grand  old  Duke 
of  York,  who  had  ten  thousand  men," 
was  celebrated  in  song  over  and  over 
again,  enthusiastically,  if  not  harmoni- 
ously. The  barge,  with  its  escort,  was 
now  half-way  up  Consumption  Hill. 
Here  was  the  tug.  But  in  a  moment 
it  had  reached  the  top  and  then  began 
rushing  down  the  incline  toward  the 
Gym. 

81 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

Before  long  the  noise  of  feet  was 
heard  on  the  stairways,  and  doors  be- 
gan to  be  opened  and  slammed. 
Hedges  listened. 

"Damn  it,  I'm  not  going  to  bed.  I'm 
goin'  out'n'  have  a  hell  of  a  time," 
some  one  cried,  in  a  high-keyed,  child- 
ish voice.  It  was  little  freshman  Haw- 
kins. The  rest  of  the  party  laughed 
boisterously.  Another  began  to  sing 
"  Some  vaunt  the  crimson,  some  the 
blue,"  but  missed  a  step  and  came  to  a 
short  stop.  Hedges  recognized  the 
singer  as  Ned  Allerton,  and  he  knew 
that  Jamieson  would  be  with  him.  The 
crowd  was  worse  than  usual  to-night. 

They  came  on  stumbling  up  the 
stairs.  Hedges  got  up.  He  didn't 
know  just  what  he  would  do,  but  at 
any  rate  he  was  going  to  keep  Harry 
Jamieson  from  coming  into  the  room. 
82 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

"I  —  I  hope  you'll  excuse  me  a  mo- 
ment," he  stammered,  "  I  want  to  speak 
to  one  of  the  fellows  before  he  goes  to 
his  room."  He  felt  that  he  was  blush- 
ing, and  that  Mr.  Jamieson  was  wonder- 
ing what  rattled  him  so.  In  a  moment 
he  had  slipped  out  of  the  room. 

When  he  saw  his  friend,  Hedges  de- 
cided what  to  do.  A  few  moments 
later  he  came  back  to  his  room  with 
his  courage  screwed  up  and  a  lie 
ready  to  tell.  It  was  a  big  one,  and 
not  so  very  plausible,  and  it  might  not 
deceive  the  father,  but  it  would,  at 
least,  make  him  take  the  girl  away  and 
prevent  a  scene. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,"  he  said, 
looking  Mr.  Jamieson  squarely  in  the 
face,  "  that  Harry  did  not  come  back 
to-night  with  the  rest."  He  hesitated, 
and  then  continued,  trying  to  assume 
83 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

his  natural  tone  :  "  I  went  out  to  speak 
to  one  of  the  fellows  and  chanced  to 
meet  Griswold,  who  was  just  coming 
here  with  a  message  from  Harry,  that 
he  had  decided  to  stay  with  a  friend  in 
Amherst  over  Sunday.  Of  course,  he 
did  not  know  you  were  coming,"  he 
added  weakly,  seeing  the  look  of  dis- 
appointment in  Dorothy's  face. 

"  It  is  very  unfortunate  that  he 
should  have  chosen  this  particular 
Sunday.  I  suppose  it  means  that  we 
shan't  see  him  this  time,  Dolly." 

Hedges  studied  the  man's  face.  He 
could  not  decide  whether  or  no  the 
deception  had  succeeded.  They  left  in 
a  moment,  and  Hedges  went  out  and 
found  Jamieson  and  got  him  to  bed. 

The  next  morning  Hedges  was 
spending  the  time  between  breakfast 
and  the  hour  for  chapel  service  in  writ- 
84 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

ing  his  usual  weekly  letter  home.  It 
was  after  half-past  nine  and  his  room- 
mate's  bedroom  door  was  still  closed. 
Presently  he  heard  a  tap  which  he 
recognized.  He  got  up  this  time  and 
went  to  the  door  himself  instead  of 
calling  "  Come  in,"  as  usual.  It  was 
Mr.  Jamieson,  as  he  had  expected  — 
but  alone. 

"  Come  in,  won't  you  ? "  asked 
Hedges.  He  did  not  say,  "  I  am  glad 
to  see  you  "  —  he  was  not  going  to  tell 
lies  gratuitously  at  any  rate. 

Mr.  Jamieson  came  in  and  sat  down  ; 
neither  said  a  word  for  a  moment,  but 
Hedges  knew  what  was  coming. 

At  last  Mr.  Jamieson  spoke.  "  I 
have  come  to  talk  with  you,  Mr. 
Hedges,  very  seriously.  I  shall  be 
quite  frank  with  you,  and  I  trust  you 
will  be  equally  so  with  me."  He 
85 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

paused  a  moment.  "  I  could  scarcely 
help  knowing  that  there  were  sev- 
eral men  who  came  into  the  dormi- 
tory last  night  under  the  influence 
of  drink.  I  was  not  mistaken  in 
that,  was  I?" 

"  No,  there  were  a  few,  I  am  sorry 
to  say." 

"  You  said  that  my  son  had  sent  you 
word  that  he  was  intending  to  stay  out 
of  town  over  Sunday.  You  will  par- 
don me  for  harboring  such  a  suspicion 
if  it  is  a  wrong  one,  but  I  have  not 
been  able  to  rid  myself  of  the  thought 
that  you  were  concealing  something 
from  me.  I  am  probably  mistaken. 
And  in  that  case  I  can  only  beg  your 
forgiveness,  yet  I  could  not  refrain 
from  coming  to  you  and  asking  you  to 
assure  me  of  it.  Needless  to  say,  I 
shall  accept  your  word  implicitly  and 
86 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

without  questioning  of  any  sort."  Mr. 
Jamieson  waited  for  a  reply. 

Hedges  looked  him  squarely  in  the 
face,  as  on  the  night  before.  "  It  was 
quite  true  what  I  said,"  he  answered, 
"your  son  stayed  at  Amherst  last 
night  —  at  least  such  was  his  message 
to  me."  There  was  a  touch  of 
contempt  in  his  voice.  What  right 
had  this  man  to  try  to  force  him  into 
a  betrayal  of  his  friend  ? 

But  his  conscience  troubled  him  just 
a  little  when  the  other  got  up,  and, 
extending  his  hand,  said,  in  his  former 
cordial  voice,  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  it, 
Mr.  Hedges.  More  glad  than  you  can 
well  imagine.  It  has  relieved  my  mind 
wonderfully.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
much."  And  he  took  a  hurried  leave, 
explaining  that  a  man  was  waiting  be. 
low  to  drive  him  over  to  North  Adams. 
87 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 

Hedges  sat  down  to  his  writing.  In 
a  few  minutes  Jamieson  come  out  into 
the  study  half  dressed.  He  stood  in 
the  middle  of  the  room  with  his  hand 
on  the  table,  looking  down  at  the  floor. 
Hedges  continued  his  letter.  "Your 
father  has  just  been  here,"  he  said,  in 
a  matter  of  fact  way,  without  looking 
up. 

"  Yes,  I  recognized  the  governor's 
voice,"  Jamieson  replied.  Neither 
spoke  for  a  moment. 

"  Phil,  old  man,  you're  a  brick," 
Jamieson  burst  out  impetuously. 

Hedges  kept  on  with  his  writing, 
and  made  no  reply,  but  there  was 
something  in  the  voice  and  the  atti- 
tude of  the  boy  that  pleased  him 
mightily.  It  gave  him  a  sense  of 
effectiveness  that  was  new  to  him ; 
conscience  or  no  conscience,  he  had 
88 


The  Sin  of  Holy  Hedges. 


learned  something,  and  a  something, 
by  the  way,  quite  necessary  for  him  to 
learn  sooner  or  later.  Hedges  had 
a  dim  sort  of  realization  of  this  fact, 
and  it  gave  him  genuine  satisfaction  — 
for,  after  all,  to  learn  was  the  purpose 
for  which  Hedges  came  to  college. 


89 


CONCERNING  A  FRESHMAN 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 


"T^RESHMEN,"  remarked  Camp- 
bell from  the  divan,  "  are  nec- 
essary evils.  Necessary,  because  the 
college  must  be  perpetuated;  evils, 
because  —  well,  because  they  are 
freshmen." 

"  So,  that's  what  has  kept  you  quiet 
for  the  last  fifteen  minutes,"  said 
Thompson ;  "  really,  Campbell,  if  I 
couldn't  make  a  better  epigram  than 
that  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  medi- 
tation I'd  give  up  trying  to." 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  chimed 

in  Perkins.     "  Has  one  of  them  been 

fresh  to  you  ?     Take   my  advice  and 

wear  corduroy  trousers.     Of  course,  no 

93 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

one  will  take  you  for  a  senior  even  then, 
but  they  can't  help  seeing  that  you're 
an  upper  classman." 

"  You  go  to  thunder !  "  said  Camp- 
bell good  naturedly.  "  Give  me  some 
tobacco  and  I'll  tell  you  the  particular 
application  of  my  general  remark.  Do 
any  of  you  know  Witherbee  ? "  he 
asked,  as  he  lit  his  pipe  and  leaned 
back  among  the  cushions. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Green,  "  he  has  the 
next  room,  and  I've  seen  him  in  the  hall 
once  or  twice ;  what  about  him  ?  " 

"Why,  he's  one  of  those  fellows," 
replied  Campbell,  "who  come  to  this 
place  with  their  ideas  of  Williams 
formed  from  a  perusal  of  the  cata- 
logue that  the  registrar  sends  to  the 
principal  of  their  high  school.  I  don't 
believe  he  ever  heard  of  college  cus- 
toms, or,  at  any  rate,  he  hasn't  the 
94 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

least  idea  of  observing  them.  In  fact, 
he  publicly  informed  several  persons 
that  he  considered  himself  quite  as 
good  as  a  senior." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Green,  "  that 
a  course  in  common  sense  would  be  a 
splendid  addition  to  the  curriculum  of 
the  average  prep,  school.  Some  of  the 
freshmen  that  we  get  here  appear  to  be 
utterly  lacking  in  it.  Now,  I  presume 
that  our  friend  Witherbee  believes  that 
he  is  acting  quite  an  heroic  part  in  tak- 
ing the  stand  he  does." 

"  I'm  sure  of  it,"  said  Thompson  ; 
"in  fact  he  told  me  himself  that  he 
considered  it  unmanly  to  allow  any 
one  to  interfere  with  his  personal 
rights.  I'm  proud  to  add  that  I  never 
cracked  a  smile.  What  has  he  been 
doing  anyway  ?"  he  added. 

"  Why,  the  first  thing  he  did,"  an- 
95 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

swered  Campbell,  "was  to  tack  up  his 
card  outside  his  door,  and  it  was 
promptly  torn  down.  Then  he  ap- 
peared on  Weston  Field  in  cordu- 
roy trousers,  and  disappeared  without 
them  ;  after  that,  to  cap  the  climax,  he 
smoked  a  pipe  in  the  street,  and  the 
sophomores  took  it  away  from  him, 
whereupon  my  young  friend  called 
them  several  unpleasant  names,  and 
informed  them  that  he  intended  to 
do  as  he  pleased." 

"  He  certainly  is  fresh,"  said  Thomp- 
son, "  but  he's  not  a  bad  sort  of  a  fel- 
low. Some  one  at  home  gave  him  a 
letter  to  me,  and,  of  course,  I  did  what 
I  could  in  helping  him  furnish  his  room 
and  find  a  boarding  place.  The  trouble 
is  that  he  has  come  here  without  the 
slightest  idea  of  what  college  life  is 
like." 

96 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

"  Well,"  said  Green,  "  he'll  have  a 
lively  time  finding  out.  I  heard  the 
sophs  were  going  to  visit  him  this 
evening." 

"  He  must  have  been  reading  some 
of  those  fool  stories  about  the  evils  of 
hazing,"  said  Perkins.  "  You  know  the 
style :  '  The  Boy  Who  Would  Not  Be 
Hazed,'  with  illustrations  showing  the 
heroic  freshman  hurling  defiance  (and 
other  things)  at  a  crowd  of  brutal  soph- 
omores, three  of  whom  he  has  knocked 
down.  Why  do  people  write  such  stuff 
anyway  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  answered 
Green,  "  and  what  is  more  I  don't  care 
very  much,  either.  I  was  invited  here 
to  eat  a  rabbit,  and  I'm  not  going  to  be 
sidetracked  into  a  discussion  on  fresh- 
men. You  cut  up  the  cheese  and  I'll 
get  out  the  rest  of  the  eatables." 
97 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

In  a  short  time  Thompson,  who  ex- 
celled in  such  matters,  was  bending 
over  the  chafing-dish,  while  the  others 
assisted  him  with  advice  as  to  the 
seasoning. 

"  Now,  then,  Perkins,"  called  out  the 
cook,  "  hurry  up  with  that  beer!  Not 
so  much !  This  isn't  soup  we're  mak- 
ing !  Get  the  mustard,  quick,  some 
one  ;  it's  in  that  brown  paper  on  the 
table.  A  little  more  pepper,  Green. 
More  yet !  Great  Heavens,  man !  don't 
put  in  the  whole  two  ounces.  Now 
wait  a  minute,  it's  nearly  done.  Ready 
with  your  plates!  There  you  are! 
You'd  better  eat  it  before  it  cools." 

The  man  who  makes  a  Welsh  rabbit 
has  no  time  to  think  of  anything 
else ;  and  the  same  is  true,  in  a  lesser 
degree,  of  the  man  who  eats  one.  It 
was  not  until  the  five  plates  were 
98 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

deposited  clean  upon  the  table  that 
the  subject  of  Witherbee  was  brought 
up  again. 

"  I  feel  sorry  for  that  freshman,"  said 
Campbell,  in  the  tone  of  fatherly  pat- 
ronage that  upper  classmen  learn  to 
employ  when  speaking  of  those  two  or 
three  years  behind  them  ;  "  I  shouldn't 
think  his  first  term  would  give  him  any 
very  deep  love  for  Williams." 

"  It  won't,"  answered  Bronson;  "he 
probably  thinks  this  is  the  worst  hole 
he  ever  got  into.  But  if  he  has  good 
stuff  in  him  he'll  come  out  of  it  all 
right  in  the  end." 

"  That's  just  it,"  said  Thompson. 
"  If  he  has  good  stuff  in  him.  But 
supposing  he  hasn't?  I  wonder  if 
many  men  get  so  sick  of  the  mill 
they're  put  through  freshman  year 
that  they  clear  out  in  disgust." 
99 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

"  Lots  of  them,"  said  Campbell ; 
"  but  they  are  the  ones  who  ought 
never  to  have  been  allowed  to  come 
to  college  at  all.  This  isn't  a  hot- 
house, you  know.  We're  not  sup- 
posed to  be  a  nursery  for  freaks.  The 
college  takes  a  hundred,  more  or  less, 
crude  and  unformed  boys,  and  turns 
them  out  in  four  years  with  their  ef- 
fectiveness doubled  and  trebled,  and  a 
sort  of  general  superficial  polish  that 
people  call  college  training.  That's 
all  it  tries  to  do,  and  if  the  weak  ones 
break  during  the  process  you  can't 
blame  the  system. 

"  It  makes  me  tired  to  see  the  way 
people  bring  up  a  boy,  without  any 
idea  of  what  the  world  is  like,  and  then 
look  surprised  and  grieved  when  he 
goes  to  the  devil  the  minute  he  leaves 
home.  While  I'm  just  as  fond  of  Wil- 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

Hams  as  any  of  you,  and  think  there's 
no  place  like  it,  I  don't  imagine  for 
a  moment  that  it's  going  to  work 
miracles.  You  can't  expect  this  col- 
lege to  take  the  place  of  a  nurse,  and 
as  for  its  trying  to  be  father  and 
mother  and  condensed  milk  to  all 
the  fools  that  come  here,  it's  simply 
ridiculous!" 

"  Now,  fellows ! "  cried  Bronson,  "  a 
Williams  cheer  with  Campbell  on  the 
end." 

"  That  was  a  burst,"  admitted  Camp- 
bell, joining  in  the  laugh;  "but  I  get 
hot  sometimes  when  people  talk  rot 
about  the  evils  of  college  life.  As  for 
hazing,  I've  never  heard  of  any  one 
being  hurt  by  it  since  I've  been  here, 
and  there  is  nothing  like  it  in  the 
world  to  correct  swelled  head.  A 
man  may  come  here  conceited,  and 
101 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

leave  here  conceited,  but  at  least  he 
has  an  intervening  period  of  sanity." 

"  When  you  get  through  settling  the 
affairs  of  the  nation,  Campbell,"  said 
Perkins,  "  I  wish  you  would  come  to 
the  window  and  see  the  fun.  There's 
a  crowd  of  sophs  in  front  of  the  Gym., 
and  I  imagine  they're  getting  ready  to 
visit  our  friend  in  the  next  room." 

The  four  looked  out  of  the  window. 
It  was  too  dark  to  distinguish  faces, 
but  they  could  make  out  a  group  of 
men  gathered  on  the  gymnasium  steps 
giving  their  class  yell. 

Newcomers  constantly  arrived,  and 
when  forty  or  fifty  were  assembled, 
they  started  for  "Hell's  Entry"  of 
Morgan  Hall,  and  came  pouring  up 
the  narrow  stairs,  while  a  general  bolt- 
ing of  freshman  doors,  and  extinguish- 
ing of  freshman  lights  heralded  their 
approach.  102 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

"  Now  he's  in  for  it,"  said  Green, 
"  Lord,  what  a  noise  they're  making !  " 

Up  the  stairs  rushed  the  sophomores 
shouting  and  singing.  "  Witherbee  ! 
Witherbee  !  we  want  Witherbee !  "  they 
yelled  ;  then  they  stopped  before  his 
room.  "  Open  up  there  !  "  they  called, 
pounding  and  kicking  an  the  door. 

No  answer. 

"Come!  Come!  Open  the  door  or 
we'll  break  it  in  !  "  they  shouted. 

Still  no  answer. 

"  Now,  fellows ! "  said  some  one,  "  all 
together!  One!  Two!  Three!" 

Twenty  men  flung  themselves 
against  the  door.  It  held  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  burst  open,  and  the  crowd 
rushed  in. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Thompson,  "  let's 
go  in  and  see  that  they  don't  go  too 
far." 

103 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

"Don't  you  do  it,"  answered  Per- 
kins;  "they  won't  hurt  him,  and  if 
ever  a  man  needed  a  calling  down  he 
does." 

However,  they  went  out  into  the 
hall  where  they  could  hear  all  that 
went  on. 

"  I  tell  you  I  won't,"  said  Wither- 
bee  passionately.  "Bullies!  Cowards! 
Leave  my  room  !  " 

A  chorus  of  derisive  yells,  followed 
by  a  half  a  dozen  orders  flung  at  him 
at  once  was  the  only  answer. 

"  No,"  he  cried  again,  "  I  won't  sing 
songs !  I  won't  make  a  speech !  I'm 
not  going  to  be  bullied  by  any  one ! 
Get  out  I  tell  you  !  " 

The  yell  which  followed  was  not 
quite  so  good  natured  as  the  first ;  the 
crowd  was  getting  angry. 

"  Look  here,"  said  someone,  "we've 
104 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

fooled  with  this  man  long  enough.  If 
he  won't  be  decent  he's  got  to  take  the 
consequences.  Now,  then,  fresh,  will 
you  sing  or  speak  ?  Hurry  up,  we  can't 
wait  all  night !  " 

"No!"  answered  Witherbee,  "I 
won't  do  anything!  You're  a  pack 

of  ."  The  rest  of  the  sentence 

was  lost  in  the  sound  of  a  struggle. 

"  O,  damn  it  all !  "  said  Thompson, 
"  they'll  hurt  him !  I'm  going  in." 

He  pushed  through  the  men  outside 
the  door  and  elbowed  his  way  to  the 
center  of  the  group  around  Wither- 
bee. Then  some  one  in  the  crowd  rec- 
ognized him,  and  the  noise  stopped. 

"  See  here,  fellows ! "  he  said, 
"  You've  gone  far  enough ;  you 
don't  want  to  hurt  him." 

"  O  nonsense,  Thompson,"  answered 
a  man  from  the  crowd  ;  "  it'll  do  him 
I05 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

good.  He's  the  freshest  man  in  col- 
lege." "  That's  so  ! "  came  from  a 
dozen  men.  "If  we  stop  now  he'll 
be  worse  than  ever." 

"You've  gone  far  enough,"  repeated 
Thompson.  "  You're  not  going  to  do 
anything  more  to  him  to-night.  Get 
out!" 

They  didn't  like  it ;  but  he  was  a 
senior,  and,  after  a  moment  of  hesita- 
tion, they  departed,  to  console  them- 
selves with  the  freshmen  in  the  next 
entry.  Witherbee  picked  himself  up. 

"  O,  thank  you,  Mr.  Thompson  !  "  he 
exclaimed  excitedly.  "  Thank  you  for 
rescuing  me  from  those  bullies !  If 
ever  I  can  do  anything  for  you  just 

let  me ."     He  stopped  abruptly, 

for    Thompson    was    not    paying    the 
slightest  attention  to  his  thanks,  nor 
to  the  hand  he  had  half  extended. 
106 


Concerning  a  Freshman. 

"  Witherbee,"  he  said,  "  I  think  you 
are,  without  exception,  the  blamedest 
fool  I  have  seen  since  I  entered  col- 
lege !  "  And  he  followed  the  sopho- 
mores out  of  the  room. 


107 


THE  VALLEY  OF  DECISION 


109 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 


TX7HEN  Paul  Lorrimer  received 
Mrs.  Endicott's  invitation  to 
come  up  and  stay  at  her  country  house 
in  Williamstown  for  a  week  or  so, 
about  commencement  time,  he  de- 
cided, without  much  hesitation,  to  ac- 
cept. He  had  not  been  back  to  the 
quiet  little  town  in  the  five  years  that 
he  had  been  an  alumnus,  and  he  had 
a  great  desire  to  see  the  old  place 
again.  In  addition  to  this  loyal  senti- 
ment Mrs.  Endicott  always  made  a 
charming  hostess,  and  there  were  to 
be  other  pleasant  people,  he  heard, 
staying  at  her  house  at  the  same  time. 
But  he  did  not  happen  to  know  that 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

Miss  Sterling  was  to  be  among  the 
number.  That  was  a  surprise  await- 
ing him  on  his  arrival.  It  was  a  bit 
prophetic,  if  they  both  had  only 
known  it,  that  she  should  have  been 
the  first  person  he  saw  when  the  trap 
that  had  brought  him  up  from  the  sta- 
tion pulled  up  under  the  porte-cochere 
of  The  Hillocks.  "Why,  Pollie,"  he 
said,  as  he  took  her  hand,  "  I  didn't 
know  that  I  was  to  see  you  here.' 

"  It's  as  much  of  a  surprise  to  me  as 
to  any  one,"  Miss  Sterling  answered. 
"  Elsie  Winthrop  was  taken  ill  at  the 
last  minute,  and  Aunt  Geraldine  tele- 
graphed me  to  come  and  take  her 
place.  It  wasn't  entirely  flattering, 
was  it  ?  But,"  she  added  with  a  sud- 
den upward  look,  "  I  wanted  to  come." 
The  astute  Lorrimer  understood  the 
look. 

112 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

"  Pollie  Sterling  is  an  awfully  at- 
tractive little  girl,"  he  said  to  himself 
later,  as  he  was  dressing  for  dinner. 
"  But  I  hope  she  clearly  understands 
that  all  that  nonsense  we  indulged  in 
down  at  St.  Augustine  last  winter  was 
—  nonsense.  You  never  can  quite 
trust  these  girls,  though,  who  are  just 
young  enough  to  take  life  seriously. 
I  hope  the  fascinations  of  some  chap 
in  a  black  gown  and  mortar  board 
will  relieve  me  from  all  necessity  of 
enlightening  her.  But  if  it  is  neces- 
sary—  He  broke  off  his  soliloquy 
abruptly.  A  man  tying  an  evening 
cravat  before  a  looking-glass  cannot  be 
impressive,  even  to  himself. 

That  night,  after  dinner,  when  the 
others  had  gone  out  onto  the  piazza., 
Miss  Sterling  went  to  the  piano  and 
sang  Charminade's  song  about  the  girl 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

who  broke  her  heart  waiting  for  a 
lover  who  never  came,  and  Lorrimer 
decided,  between  whiffs  of  smoke, 
that,  after  all,  he  had  not  come  to 
Williamstown  to  impose  a  disagree- 
able duty  upon  himself.  It  is  sur- 
prising with  what  promptness  the 
members  of  a  house  party  understand 
each  other.  After  a  day  or  two  cer- 
tain combinations  are  received  in  a 
matter-of-fact,  unquestioning  way,  and 
it  is  perfectly  understood  that  no  one 
will  poach  on  the  preserves  of  another's 
monopoly.  The  advantages  of  this 
system  are,  of  course,  relative  to  the 
character  of  one's  "  corner,"  and  occa- 
sionally —  but  that  is  exactly  why  one 
should  exercise  discretion  in  accepting 
invitations  to  country  houses. 

Pending  the  arrival  of  the  seniorial 
middleman,   who   should    divert    Miss 
114 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

Sterling's  emotional  attention,  Lorri- 
mer  had  let  matters  drift  back  into 
their  old  course.  It  was  made  so  easy 
that  it  was  almost  unconscious.  And 
why  should  he  spoil  a  simple,  pleasant 
friendship  with  some  bungling  pru- 
dishness?  Lorrimer  was  well  on  in 
the  middle  age  of  his  youth,  yet  he 
used  the  word  with  a  half  sincerity. 
It  was  not  because  he  did  not  under- 
stand, either,  but  rather  because  it 
had  never  occurred  to  him  to  apply 
the  excellent  epigrams  he  had  made 
concerning  life  to  himself. 

Most  experience  is  divided  into  a 
before  and  an  after  by  a  climax. 

And  Lorrimer's  climax  came. 

The  fellows  at  his  fraternity  house 
had  arranged  a  dance  and  most  of  the 
people  staying  at  The  Hillocks  decided 
to  go.  "  Of  course  you  and  Pollie  will 


V 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

go,"  Mrs.  Endicott  had  said  to  Lorri- 
mer  when  they  were  all  talking  it  over. 
The  "of  course"  had  stung  a  little. 
He  would  have  preferred  if  everything 
had  not  been  entirely  taken  for  granted. 
Pollie's  attitude  annoyed  him  too.  He 
kept  away  from  the  house  that  day 
and,  when  they  met  at  dinner,  he  con- 
fined the  conversation  strictly  within 
the  bounds  of  impersonalities.  The 
next  day  he  spent  playing  golf  with 
Jack  Ellis.  The  one  little  glimpse  he 
had  of  Pollie  made  him  miserably 
remorseful,  but  he  felt  that  he  was  tak- 
ing the  right  course.  That  night  when 
he  came  up  to  his  room  to  dress  for  the 
dance,  he  found  lying  among  the  silver 
things  on  his  dressing  table  some  white 
sweet  flowers.  He  knew  that  she  had 
sent  them  for  his  buttonhole,  but  he 
put  them  in  a  glass  of  water  instead. 
116 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

Lorrimer  drove  over  from  The  Hil- 
locks to  the  dance  with  Mrs.  Endicott 
and  her  niece.  Pollie  had  hardly 
spoken  to  him  all  the  evening,  but 
now  she  was  unusually  gay,  and  rat- 
tled on  about  everything  and  noth- 
ing, with  reckless  inconsequence. 
"  Pollie,"  Mrs.  Endicott  said,  "  you 
are  as  excited  as  if  you  were  going  to 
your  first  dance.  Ah,  here  we  are ! 
Tell  him  when  we  shall  want  the 
carriage,  Paul,  please." 

The  pretty  house  was  bright  with 
lights  and  gay  with  laughter  when  they 
came  in.  In  the  long  room,  where  they 
were  dancing,  they  had  filled  the  big 
fireplace  with  flowers,  and  the  walls 
were  nearly  hidden  with  college  ban- 
ners and  festoons  of  evergreen. 

Lorrimer  danced  first  with  Pollie  and 
then  gave  her  up  to  the  others.  He 
117 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

did  not  see  her  again  until  he  went 
later  to  claim  a  promised  dance.  "  I 
am  tired,"  she  said,  "  I  would  much 
rather  go  outside  and  rest.  Do  you 
mind  not  dancing  it?" 

There  was  a  little  group  of  close-set 
trees  on  the  lawn  near  the  house,  and 
some  one  had  put  seats  under  them. 
Out  of  the  leafy  dimness  of  their 
boughs  some  colored  lanterns  glowed 
like  great  globe-like  fruit. 

"  Let's  go  over  there,"  Pollie  said, 
when  they  had  gotten  out  on  to  the 
piazza. 

The  music  came  to  them  faintly,  out 
there  under  the  trees.  The  warm 
darkness  seemed  to  have  grown  sensu-' 
ously  tender  with  it.  From  where 
they  were  sitting  they  could  see  the 
yellow  lights  of  the  house  blaze  out 
into  the  night,  and  sometimes,  over  the 
118 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

wail  of  the  violins,  came  the  crowded 
sound  of  the  chatter  of  many  voices. 
Pollie  had  taken  off  her  long  gloves  and 
had  lain  them  limply  across  her  knees. 
She  bent  forward,  smoothing  the 
wrinkles  out  of  them  with  a  kind  of 
nervous  indifference.  The  light  of  one 
of  the  lanterns,  hung  in  the  leaves  above 
her,  fell  on  her  soft  hair,  and  caressed 
the  smooth,  babyish  roundness  of  her 
throat  and  breast.  Lorrimer,  leaning 
back  in  the  shadow,  regarded  her  with 
a  sort  of  pitying  admiration. 

"  Would  you  mind  if  I  lit  a  cigar- 
ette?" he  inquired.  He  did  not  care 
about  smoking,  but  he  felt  the  conver- 
sational blank  must  be  filled  somehow. 

The    girl    turned    to   him    quickly. 
"  Why  are  you  so  formal  ?  Have  I  ever 
cared  ?    Have  I  ever  stopped  you  do- 
ing anything  you  wanted  ?  " 
119 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

Lorrimer  smiled.  It  was  his  theory 
that  a  man  should  always  indulge 
women  as  long  as  it  did  not  give  him 
too  much  trouble.  There  was  a  mo- 
ment's silence.  The  sob  of  the  waltz 
music  thrilled  the  night  and  made 
it  pulsate  with  answering  rapture. 
"Youth!  Youth!"  the  violins  seemed 
to  be  sighing.  "  So  soon  lost  !  So 
soon  lost !  Love  and  youth !  Love 
and  youth ! "  The  music  caught  at 
the  girl's  heart  convulsively.  She 
crushed  the  soft  gloves  between  her 
hands.  "  It  is  always  this  way,"  she 
said  with  hurried  vehemence.  "  I  do 
all  the  caring  and  you  — 

"  Is  this  apropos  of  cigarettes,  or  of 
nothing?"  Lorrimer  asked  quickly. 
He  wanted  to  avert  the  melodrama  if 
possible.  She  did  not  hear  him. 

"  Look,"  she  went  on.  "  You  are 
120 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

older  than  I.  You  know  more  of  the 
world  and  people.  Perhaps  I  am  not 
like  all  the  others.  Maybe  I  have 
amused  you.  Perhaps  you  have  never 
realized  it,  but  you  have  made  me 
love  you.  Do  you  understand,  love 
you  ?  I  know  I  haven't  any  decency 
or  I  wouldn't  tell  this  to  you.  I  don't 
care  for  decency  or  anything  else. 
I  love  you  ! "  Her  voice  shrilled 
softly  with  the  defiance  of  despera- 
tion. 

Lorrimer  threw  his  half-smoked  ciga- 
rette away.  He  was  enough  of  a  man 
to  be  more  sorry  than  flattered  by 
what  he  had  heard.  He  would  have 
given  much  to  have  known  the  right 
thing  to  say ;  a  sick  feeling  of  shame 
came  over  him  and  a  wordless  tender- 
ness. The  other  had  covered  her  face 
and  was  crying,  softly  and  brokenly. 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

Lorrimer  drew  away  one  of  the  little 
cold  hands,  still  wet  with  her  tears. 

"  Don't  cry,"  he  said  with  gentle 
firmness.  "  You  really  mustn't,  you 
know.  How  are  we  to  go  back  and 
face  all  those  people  if  you  do  ? 
There!  Now  we  can  talk  it  all  over 
quietly  and  perhaps  we  can  under- 
stand each  other  better.  You  say  you 
love  me.  Can  you  tell  me  why  —  at 
first,  I  mean  ?  " 

She  had  straightened  up  and  had 
stopped  crying,  although  her  lips  were 
still  working  tremulously.  There 
were  white  roses  pinned  to  her  gown 
and  taking  one,  she  began  to  tear  it 
to  pieces,  petal  by  petal.  After  a  lit- 
tle pause  she  answered  him. 

"  It  sounds  silly,  but  it  was  your 
dancing  at  first,  and  then  —  then  other 
things.  And  then  I  knew  that  you 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

were  my  ideal."  Lorrimer  could  have 
laughed  there  in  the  shadow,  but  the 
pathos  of  the  little  fluttering  hands 
deterred  him. 

"  And  I  am  that  now,  and  you  want 
to  marry  me  ?  "  He  asked  the  ques- 
tion quite  simply.  He  thought  it  bet- 
ter if  they  left  nothing  unsaid. 

Pollie  looked  up  and  met  his  eyes 
bravely.  "  Yes,"  she  said.  "  You  are 
the  best  and  finest  and  — 

"  Wait !  "  Lorrimer  said.  "  Wait  ! 
You  don't  know  me  yet."  He  had  de- 
cided that  she  should  know.  "  I  sup- 
pose that  if  I  were  to  tell  you  that 
I'm  none  of  these  good  things,  you 
wouldn't  believe  me." 

The  girl  shook  her  head,  smiling 
faintly.  "  No,"  she  said.  "  I  won't — 

"  Of  course  not.  We  never  believe 
anything  evil  about  our  ideals,  until 
123 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

we  have  ceased  to  have  them.  Never- 
theless, it's  not  true  —  I'm  very  far 
from  being  even  respectably  virtuous, 
and  certainly  I'm  not  fine  in  any  way. 
There  is  really  no  reason  why  you 
should  make  anything  more  of  me 
than  of  the  twenty-odd  other  men  who 
have  asked  you  to  dance,  and  have 
sent  you  flowers  occasionally." 

"  Ah  !  But  I  know  you  too  well  to 
believe  you,  now.  You  aren't  like  any 
of  those  others  —  not  like  any  one  else 
in  the  whole  world.  How  can  you  be  ? 
I  don't  love  any  of  them,  and  I  do 
love  you."  Her  eyes  were  shining 
like  stars,  and  leaning  forward,  she 
rested  her  hand  on  his  knee.  Lorri- 
mer  saw  that  another  method  of  pro- 
cedure was  necessary. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  "  will  you  allow 
me  to  talk  to  you  just  as  your  father 
124 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

might?     I'm  old  enough  to  be  at  least 
your  older  brother." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Pollie,  quietly. 
"  Go  on." 

"  Do  you  know  you  don't  really  love 
this  —  er  —  person  we  have  been  talk- 
ing about  ?  He  isn't  your  '  ideal '  at 
all.  He  merely  happened  to  step  into 
your  life  when  you  were  in  need  of  a 
figure  to  wear  the  costume  your  imagi- 
nation had  made,  and  masquerade  as 
your  ideal.  Very  soon  you  would 
have  seen  for  yourself  how  badly  the 
costume  fitted  —  and  then  you  would 
have  blamed  him  for  being  an  impos- 
tor. It's  not  me  you're  loving,  dear, 
but  your  idea  of  me,  and  if  I  let  you 
go  on  thinking  as  you  do,  it  would 
merely  hurt  us  both." 

"Why  do  you   talk  to  me  in  this 
way  ?  "  she  broke  out,  passionately. 
125 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

"  Because  you  are  a  sweet,  simple 
little  girl,  and  I  care  for  you  too  much 
to  let  you  think  you  love  me,  and  that 
your  heart  is  broken  because  I  can't 
feel  for  you  in  the  same  way." 

"If  it  is  not  love  —  what  is  it, 
then  ?  "  she  asked,  almost  harshly. 

"Just  a  part  of  your  youth,  little 
one,"  he  answered,  gravely.  "  Just  a 
part  of  the  moonlight,  and  roses,  and 
white  frocks,  and  waltz  music.  A  very 
sweet  and  beautiful  part,  and  some- 
thing you'll  remember  some  day  very 
tenderly  —  but  no  more  love  than 
those  lights  in  there  where  they're 
dancing  are  the  sun.  Can  you  believe 
me?"  His  tone  had  become  very 
earnest. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  listlessly,  "  I 
believe  you  —  anything,  always." 

They  sat  silent  again  until  she  had 
126 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

pulled  the  last  petal  from  the  rose  in 
her  hand  ;  then  she  asked,  very  quietly 
and  slowly :  "  Do  you  think  I'll  ever 
know  this  other  —  love  —  now  ?  " 

Lorrimer  took  her  hand  into  his. 
"  I  can  ask  no  greater  happiness  for 
my  dear  friend  than  that,  some  time, 
she  may,"  he  said. 

Withers  came  through  the  trees  be- 
hind them  just  then.  "  Oh,  here  you 
are  !  "  he  said.  "  They're  just  going 
to  begin  our  dance,  and  I've  been  look- 
ing for  you  everywhere." 

Pollie  stood  up,  sweeping  the  white 
rose  petals  from  her  lap  as  she  did  so. 
"  I'm  all  ready,"  she  said.  "  I'm  sorry 
you  had  such  a  bother  to  find  me. 
Mr.  Lorrimer  has  just  been  teaching 
me  a  new  game.  Good  bye,  Mr.  Lor- 
rimer," she  said  to  him,  "  thank  you  so 
much  for  the  lesson.  I'm  afraid  I  was 
127 


The  Valley  of  Decision. 

very  stupid  at  first,  but — I  —  I — un- 
derstand perfectly  now,"  and  she 
laughed. 

When  they  had  gone,  Lorrimer  set- 
tled back  in  his  old  seat  again.  "  I'm 
glad  she  laughed,"  he  said,  half  aloud. 
"  When  a  woman  laughs,  because  she 
is  afraid  she  will  cry  if  she  doesn't,  she 
has  learned  how  to  take  care  of  her- 
self." His  eye  fell  on  the  flowerless 
rose-stem  on  the  seat  beside  him.  He 
took  it  into  his  hand  for  a  moment. 

"  Poor  little  rose,"  he  said,  softly. 
"  I  am  sorry  it  had  to  be  pulled  to 
pieces;  it  was  so  pretty  —  too  pretty 
to  last,"  he  added,  under  his  breath. 


128 


THE  CONQUEST 


129 


The  Conquest. 


n^HERE  comes  in  the  lives  of  most 
of  us,  after  we  have  nibbled  all 
the  frosting  off  the  cake,  and  before 
we  have  gotten  to  like  plain  bread  and 
butter,  a  time  that  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  trying  we  will  ever  experience. 
We  are  then  in  a  sort  of  emotional 
hobble-de-hoy  period,  for  which  there 
is  little  help  or  sympathy  to  be 
gained  from  the  outside  world.  If  one 
happens  to  be  in  college,  when  he  goes 
through  this  unpleasant  adjusting  of 
himself  to  his  intellectual  environment, 
he  is  lucky,  for  there  are  so  many 
doing  the  same  thing  that  he  is  hardly 
noticed.  It  seems  to  be  the  chief  use 


The  Conquest. 

of  college,  anyway,  to  supply  a  safe 
place  for  one  to  recover  from  one's 
extreme  youth. 

But  all  this  is  in  Joe  Thayer's  story. 
It  was  one  of  those  gray,  inhospitable 
days  in  late  autumn,  while  he  was  in 
the  Gym.  dressing  after  a  discouraging 
practice  game,  that  Thayer  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  life  —  college  life 
—  was  not  worth  the  living.  That  is 
a  somewhat  uninspiring  outlook  to 
take,  especially  when  one  has  advanced 
no  further  towards  the  end  than  the 
first  term  of  his  junior  year.  Thayer 
was  not  cheered  with  the  prospect. 
He  hurried  his  dressing  to  escape  from 
the  crowded  room,  heavy  with  the 
odor  of  liniments  and  littered  with 
dirty  foot  ball  clothes. 

It  was  dreary  enough  outside,  with 
little  bleak  whirls  of  dust  and  dead 
132 


The  Conquest. 

leaves  along  the  walks,  and  the  wind 
muttering  in  the  bare  trees.  The 
lights  were  already  showing  in  Hop- 
kins as  Thayer  went  across  to  Mor- 
gan, although  it  was  yet  comparatively 
early. 

He  hoped  he  would  find  his  room 
empty ;  he  wanted  to  be  quiet  before 
he  faced  the  hubbub  at  the  training 
table  later.  But  he  was  disappointed. 
Bradford  Gray  and  Ned  Vernon  were 
there,  both,  apparently,  perfectly  at 
home.  "  We  have  been  waiting  for 
that  wandering  room-mate  of  yours 
nearly  an  hour,"  Vernon  said  from  the 
window ;  "  he  promised  to  be  here  at 
four." 

"  That's  why  we  oughtn't  to  have 
expected  him,"  Gray  broke  in,  in  the 
finitive,  assured  manner  of  a  man  who 
gave  the  last  word.  "  Only  the  unex- 


The  Conquest. 

pected  occurs."  Vernon  laughed.  He 
took  a  cigarette  from  his  case  and  lit 
it.  He  always  smoked  cigarettes  with 
a  pungent,  heavy  smoke.  Gray  had 
called  the  odor  the  very  essence  of 
Bohemianism  once. 

"Bradford,"  Vernon  said,  "you're 
too  clever  to  be  allowed  to  go  about 
unmuzzled;  you're  an  humiliation  as 
a  conversational  example." 

"  Conversation  ought  to  be  like  a 
Cheret  poster  —  blocked  in  in  broad 
quick  color  with  little  regard  for  the 
details,"  answered  Gray. 

He  was  a  small,  dark  man  with  a 
drawling,  insistent  voice  that  was  im- 
possible to  escape.  He  had  a  knack 'of 
saying  half  truths  in  a  terse,  convincing 
way  that  passed  for  cleverness.  He 
wrote  occasionally  for  little  mushroom 
magazines  with  gaudy  covers  and 


The  Conquest. 

limited  circulation,  and  his  pose  was 
that  of  a  literary  cynic.  The  most 
charitable  of  the  men  who  knew  him 
said  that  there  really  wasn't  any  harm 
in  him,  but  the  others  disliked  him 
with  a  heartiness  that  would  have  been 
franker  had  they  not  been  secretly 
afraid  of  him.  Unpopularity,  how- 
ever, did  not  disturb  Gray's  self-re- 
spect in  the  least.  He  managed  to  turn 
it  into  a  tribute  paid  by  mediocrity  to 
a  dominant  personality. 

Ned  Vernon  and  he  were  insepa- 
rable. They  were  sufficiently  alike 
to  thoroughly  appreciate  each  other, 
and  Vernon  was  just  weak  enough  not 
to  rebel  against  Gray's  leadership. 
Lately  Stafford,  Thayer's  room-mate, 
had  been  taken  into  their  partnership. 
They  had  a  commonality  of  taste  for 
refined  things  to  start  with,  and  Gray 


The  Conquest. 

managed  the  rest  so  successfully  that 
the  result  had  been  brought  about  al- 
most unconsciously.  It  fell  out  that 
Stafford's  and  Thayer's  room  had  be- 
come a  sort  of  rallying  place,  and  the 
three  were  together  constantly.  Thayer 
they  accepted  as  a  necessary  evil. 

It  was  always  difficult  for  Joe  Thayer 
to  observe  the  ordinary  decencies  of 
hospitality  toward  these  friends  of 
Stafford's.  There  was  nothing  sub- 
tle about  Thayer, —  his  mind  was  as 
straightforward  as  his  face,  and  his 
intellect  refused  to  play  practical 
jokes  upon  itself.  He  thought  as 
simply  as  he  spoke.  When  Bradford 
Gray  had  said  that  his  mind  was  as 
uncompromising  as  a  right-angled  tri- 
angle, he  had  come  nearer  the  truth 
than  was  his  wont. 

His  sentiments  in  regard  to  his 
136 


The  Conquest. 

room-mate's  new  friends  were  definite 
enough,  certainly.  It  filled  him  with 
an  unreasoning  anger  when  he  thought 
of  them.  The  number  of  men  Thayer 
admired  and  liked  was  large, —  but  the 
number  of  his  friends  was  small.  He 
had  taken  Stafford  into  his  affection 
with  an  entireness  that  almost  was 
pathetic. 

To-day,  especially,  he  was  least  pre- 
pared to  be  even  ordinarily  civil  to 
them.  He  sat  staring  out  into  the 
gathering  darkness,  hardly  speaking. 
"  Mark  how  the  noble  brow  is  dark 
with  sadness,"  Vernon  said  to  Gray. 
"  Can  it  be  that  he  has  not  come  off 
victor  in  the  arena  this  afternoon?" 

"  Impossible  that  the  mere  fortunes 
of  war  should  ruffle  his  classic  calm," 
Gray  answered.  The  clock  was  ring- 
ing out  the  hour.  Gray  pulled  him- 


The  Conquest. 

self  slowly  up  from  the  depths  of 
the  Morris  chair  he  was  occupying. 
"  Duty  calls  me  and  I  must  go,"  he 
said.  "  What  a  lot  of  valuable  time 
one  wastes  doing  one's  duty,  anyway," 
he  added.  "  Tell  Stafford  he's  as  unre- 
liable as  the  reward  of  virtue.  Coming, 
Verny  ?  "  And  they  went  out  together. 
Thayer  sat  as  they  had  left  him, 
gazing  into  blankness.  He  was  hardly 
thinking.  A  terrible  mental  dumb- 
ness comes  to  certain  natures  at  times, 
when  the  mind  cannot  tell  to  itself, 
even,  the  cause  of  its  pain.  He  had  a 
great  craving  for  a  pipe,  but  he  was 
the  sort  of  a  man  who  kept  his  word, 
even  to  the  detail  of  training.  "  The 
game's  up,"  he  thought  slowly,  after 
a  little.  "  I've  made  failure  of  the 
whole  business,  from  start  to  finish. 
If  I  could  have  only  taken  a  decent 
138 


The  Conquest. 

stand  that  would  have  been  something, 
—  but  just  to  play  a  little  foot  ball, 
and  to  know  enough  to  keep  from  get- 
ting dropped.  Bah !  Gray  was  right 
when  he  called  me  commonplace.  I 
don't  blame  Stafford  a  bit  for  shaking 
me  for  somebody  who  knows  some- 
thing. Well,  that's  all  over,  and  the 
best  thing  for  me  is  to  get  myself  out 
as  soon  as  I  can." 

The  shadow  in  the  room  had  deep- 
ened into  darkness.  From  his  window 
Thayer  could  see  in  the  rifts  of  the 
wind-swept  clouds  the  gleam  of  the 
keen  wintry  stars. 

Some  one  came  up  the  stairs  sing- 
ing. Thayer  recognized  the  voice  as 
Stafford's.  There  came  into  the  room 
a  sudden  brightness  from  the  entry 
light  outside,  as  he  opened  the  door. 
"Is  that  you,  Joe,  in  here  in  the  dark? 


The  Conquest. 

Why  the  deuce  don't  you  light  up?" 
he  asked. 

"  Your  gang  has  been  here  looking 
for  you,"  Thayer  said,  as  he  went  over 
to  light  his  lamp. 

"  Who  do  you  mean  by  that  ? " 
asked  Stafford.  He  was  tearing  up  a 
letter  into  minute  square  pieces. 

"  I  mean,"  Thayer  answered  slowly, 
"  Gray,  of  course,  and  Ned  Vernon. 
Look  here,  Dick,  the  fellows  are  all 
talking  about  it, —  the  way  you  are 
running  around  with  those  chaps. 
They  think  you're  too  good  a  man  for 
that  sort  of  business.  Why,  those 
men  aren't 

The  bits  of  paper  had  fluttered 
down  like  a  miniature  momentary 
snowstorm.  "  For  gad's  sake,  Joe, 
don't  begin  any  of  that  cant  about 
Gray  and  Vernon.  You  can  hold  any 
140 


The  Conquest. 

private  opinion  you  like  about  them, 
only  kindly  remember,  when  you  speak 
of  them,  that  you  are  talking  about 
my  friends  —  my  best  friends." 

Stafford  picked  up  a  book  and 
turned  over  the  leaves  with  elabo- 
rate carelessness.  There  was  a  mo- 
ment's silence.  Thayer  pulled  his  cap 
down  over  his  eyes  and  turned  toward 
the  door. 

"  You  can  have  what  friends  you 
please  —  it's  none  of  my  business,  of 
course,"  he  said,  as  he  went  out. 

Stafford  went  into  his  room  to  get 
ready  for  dinner.  "  I'll  be  hanged  if 
I'll  have  him  trying  any  missionary 
game  on  me,"  he  said,  half  aloud.  "  If 
he  did  it  because  he  cared  a  two-penny 
hurrah  about  me  it  would  be  different. 
But  I  object  to  being  made  an  object 
of  Christian  Endeavor."  He  put  out 
141 


The  Conquest. 

the  lights  and,  going  out,  shut  the 
door  behind  him  as  if  he  were  venting 
a  personal  spite  upon  it. 

Thayer  had  to  be  at  the  Gym.  for 
signal  practice  for  a  while  after  he  had 
finished  dinner ;  and  afterwards,  in- 
stead of  going  back  to  his  room,  he 
stuffed  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and 
tramped  off  up  Main  street. 

The  moon  had  come  up,  and  some- 
times it  peered  out  from  behind  scud- 
ding drifts  of  cloud  for  a  moment,  then 
drew  back  again  as  if  afraid  of  what  it 
had  seen.  A  sharp  wind  from  the 
north  blew  straight  in  Thayer's  face. 
He  hardly  knew  where  he  was  going, 
or,  indeed,  how  far  he  had  gone.  He 
met  almost  no  one  after  he  had  gotten 
a  little  way  out  of  the  village,  and  the 
hills  lay  grim  and  silent  in  the  darkness 
ahead  of  him. 

142 


The  Conquest. 

He  had  come  to  the  place  where  the 
road,  leading  down  a  sharp  little  hill, 
crosses  a  narrow  bridge,  and  then 
mounts  again  to  lose  itself  in  a  strag- 
gling pine  wood.  The  moon  had  come 
out  again  and  was  sailing  serenely 
through  a  stretch  of  starless  blue. 

Just  as  Thayer  came  to  the  little 
bridge  some  one  entered  it  from  the 
opposite  side.  "  Gray  !  "  Thayer  said. 

Gray  raised  his  head  and  saw  him 
for  the  first  time.  "  Yes,"  he  said, 
doggedly,  "perfect  night  for  a  walk 
isn't  it  ?  " 

Thayer  did  not  seem  to  hear  him. 
"  For  God's  sake  !  what's  the  matter? 
You  look  as  if  you'd  seen  a  ghost." 

"  Your  acumen  does  you  credit," 
Gray  said,  in  an  echo  of  his  old  way  of 
talking.  "  I  have  just  been  taking  a 
promenade  with  one." 


The  Conquest. 

Thayer's  impulse  was  to  let  him 
continue  it  uninterrupted.  Conversa- 
tion with  Gray,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, was  not  an  unmixed  joy,  and 
now  he  desired  it  less  than  ever.  He 
started  to  pass  on. 

Gray  had  been  watching  him,  and 
now  moved  toward  him  as  if  stirred 
by  a  sudden  impulse.  "  Thayer,"  he 
said,  in  a  curiously  tense  voice,  and 
with  a  sort  of  desperate  simplicity,  "  if  I 
had  been  drowning  in  the  water  down 
there  when  you  came  by,  would  you 
have  taken  the  trouble  to  pull  me 
out?" 

Thayer  was  silent  a  moment.  "  I 
suppose  I  would  have,"  he  said. 

"  Of  course,"  Gray  went  on,  quickly, 
"  of  course,  I  understand  it  would 
have  been  for  purely  impersonal  rea- 
sons. Well,  I'm  drowning  to-night,  if 
144 


The  Conquest. 

you  only  knew  it.  Will  you  help  me, 
now  ?  " 

"  Gray,"  said  Thayer,  harshly,  "  drop 
all  this  confounded  mystery.  What's 
the  matter,  in  plain  language  ?  " 

"  But  will  you  help  me  ? "  Gray 
persisted. 

"  I'll  help  you  if  I  can,"  Thayer  said, 
briefly ;  "  you've  got  to  tell  me  first." 

Gray  looked  down  into  the  rush- 
ing stream,  clamoring  below  in  the 
darkness. 

"  I'm  not  going  in  for  an  artistic 
statement,"  he  began,  slowly.  "  It's 
very  simple.  I  had  to  have  some 
money.  I  had  no  way  of  getting  it, 
except  one.  I  made  out  a  check  for 
the  amount  and  wrote  Ned  Vernon's 
name  on  the  back  of  it.  Of  course,  I 
intended  that  it  should  be  deposited 
again  before  he  knew  it.  But  I  haven't 
MS 


The  Conquest. 

been  able  to  do  it,  and  to-morrow,  I 
have  just  found,  that  he's  got  to  know 
all  about  it." 

Thayer  wanted  to  take  the  man  by 

the  throat.  "  You  "  he  began, 

then  breaking  off  with  an  effort  he 
asked  how  great  the  amount  was. 

Gray  laughed  mirthlessly.  "  Not 
large  enough  to  add  tne  eclat  of  a 
magnificent  recklessness,  I'm  afraid,  or 
even  to  assure  me  a  name  with  the 
mighty  forgers  of  history.  It  was  for 
a  mere  paltry  one  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars." 

The  sound  of  the  rushing  stream 
and  of  the  wind  in  the  pines  filled  the 
lonely  silence.  There  was  a  momen- 
tary conflict  going  on  in  Thayer's 
right-angled  brain.  But  only  for  a 
moment.  Then  he  came  to  his  con- 
clusions quite  calmly.  Of  course,  he 
146 


The  Conquest. 

couldn't  let  this  disgrace  come  to  his 
friend's  friend  if  he  could  prevent  it. 
He  scarcely  considered  Gray,  his  mind 
was  so  busy  thinking  of  how  he  could 
save  Stafford. 

Presently  he  spoke.  "  Look  here, 
Gray,"  he  said,  curtly,  "  I  said  I'd  help 
you  if  I  could,  and  I  guess  I  can.  I'll 
get  you  the  money,  and  probably 
you'll  be  able  to  fix  it  up  some  way." 

"  Thayer,  how  can  I  ever  thank 
you  — "  Gray  began. 

Thayer  interrupted  him.  "  Don't 
try  to,  for  heaven's  sake.  You  don't 
for  a  moment  suppose  it's  for  you  that 
I'm  doing  it." 

"  Of  course  not,"  Gray  said,  almost 
humbly.  "  And  if  you  tell  Dick  Staf- 
ford about  all  this " 

"  Do   you   think   that   I'm   quite  a 


The  Conquest. 

cad?"  said  Thayer,  and  they  walked 
on  in  the  darkness  in  silence. 

Thayer  was  at  his  desk  a  day  or  so 
after  writing  a  letter  to  his  people. 
Letter  writing  amounted  almost  to  a 
matter  for  fasting  and  prayer  with 
Thayer  at  any  time,  and  to-day  it 
came  harder  than  usual  somehow.  He 
was  just  finishing  when  Stafford  came 
in. 

He  wandered  about  the  room  in  an 
aimless  fashion,  when  suddenly  he  said, 
"  I've  just  heard  that  Bradford  Gray's 
resigned  from  college." 

Thayer  bent  lower  over  his  desk. 
"  Has  he  ?  "  he  said. 

Stafford  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then 

he   came   over   and  put  his  hand  on 

Thayer's  shoulder.     "  Joe,"  he  said,  a 

little  huskily,  "  he's  told  me  the  whole 

148 


The  Conquest. 

business.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  what 
I  think  of  you,  but  I  can't.  Anyhow, 
I've  been  a  fool  —  and  worse  — 

For  answer,  Thayer  stretched  out 
his  hand,  and  in  silence  they  both 
understood. 

There  are  some  things  that  are  not 
for  words,  after  all. 


149 


THE  BOOTLICKING 
OF  BRONSON 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 


liked  Jack  Bronson. 
He  was  one  of  those  men  of 
whom  we  are  accustomed  to  say  that 
"they  might  amount  to  anything;" 
usually  a  euphemistic  way  of  express- 
ing the  fact  that,  as  yet,  they  amount 
to  nothing.  No  one  ever  knew  him  to 
do  or  say  anything  especially  brilliant, 
and  yet  he  impressed  you  as  being  in- 
tensely clever.  He  was  a  tall  youth, 
with  a  splendid  pair  of  shoulders ;  his 
clothes  were  irreproachable,  and  he 
wore  them  with  an  air.  I  have  seen 
Jack  enter  chapel  in  a  sweater  and 
rubber  boots,  and  make  the  man  who 
sat  next  to  him,  in  all  the  glory  of  a 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

high  collar  and  black  coat,  look  shabby 
by  contrast. 

But,  after  all,  his  distinguishing 
characteristic  was  his  attitude  toward 
work.  I  say  attitude  because  no  other 
word  quite  expresses  it.  Aversion 
would  not  do ;  he  was  not  averse  to 
it.  But  he  seemed  to  live  apart  in  a 
little  world  of  his  own,  where  work 
had  not  only  no  existence,  but  no  pos- 
sibility of  existence. 

Sometimes  he  studied,  but  always 
because  he  wanted  to,  not  because  he 
had  to  ;  and  if  you  talked  to  him  of 
the  necessity  of  working  harder  he 
would  answer  you,  politely  indeed 
(Bronson  was  always  polite),  but  with 
an  air  of  boredom,  mingled  with  a 
slightly  suppressed  impatience,  very 
much  as  you  might  answer  some  ar- 
dent mathematician  who  tried  to  con- 
154 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

vince  you  of  the  necessity  of  compre- 
hending the  fourth  dimension. 

How  he  ever  stayed  in  college  we 
never  discovered.  Those  who  knew 
him  only  slightly  suggested  that  he 
worked  at  night,  when  no  one  was 
around;  but  his  intimate  friends  re- 
jected this  explanation  with  scorn, 
and  attributed  his  continued  residence 
among  us  to  the  direct  intervention  of 
Providence.  He  was  usually  either  on 
special  probation,  or  out  of  college,  or 
just  getting  back  again ;  and  when  he 
had  no  condition  to  make  up,  which 
happened  but  rarely,  he  was  sure  to 
have  extra  work  for  over-cutting. 

You  would  think  that  a  life  of  such 
uncertainty  would  have  driven  him 
into  nervous  prostration  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  was  the  most  cheerful  man  at 
Williams.  He  continued  his  Damo- 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

clean  existence  during  four  unruffled 
years,  and  finally  graduated,  and  had 
his  degree  framed  and  hung  up  in  his 
room,  where  it  remains  to-day,  the 
wonder  and  admiration  of  his  friends. 

But  he  frequently  had  narrow  es- 
capes, and  this  story  is  about  one  of 
them. 

It  was  the  spring  term  of  Jack's 
Junior  year,  and  he  had  been  flunking 
steadily  for  three  weeks.  The  Dean 
wrote  to  him,  the  professors  exhorted 
him  after  class,  the  President  himself, 
who  knew  his  father,  stopped  him  in 
the  street  to  urge  the  necessity  of  re- 
form. It  was  no  use ;  the  flunking  con- 
tinued. At  last  matters  came  to  a  cri- 
sis, and  one  morning  Jack  received  a 
communication  from  the  Secretary  of 
the  Faculty,  informing  him  that,  un- 
less he  passed  a  certain  examination 
156 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

on  the  following  Saturday,  his  "  con- 
nection with  the  college,"  such  was 
the  wording  of  the  note,  "  would  at 
once  and  finally  terminate." 

Bronson  did  not  take  this  very  se- 
riously. He  handed  the  letter  to  a 
crowd  of  us  at  the  post  office  and 
wandered  leisurely  up  Spring  street, 
merely  remarking  that  he  "guessed 
he'd  get  through  all  right."  But  we 
were  less  sanguine,  and,  after  talking 
it  over,  several  of  us  decided  to  try 
to  arouse  him  to  the  gravity  of  the 
situation. 

We  found  Bronson  in  his  room  smok- 
ing, and,  after  accepting  his  proffered 
tobacco,  sat  down  and  began  to  talk. 
We  wanted  to  make  an  impression, 
and  I  think  we  talked  steadily  for 
nearly  half  an  hour.  When  we  were 
quite  through  Jack  removed  his  pipe 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

from  his  mouth  and  blew  the  smoke 
reflectively  across  the  room. 

"Really,  fellows,"  he  remarked, 
slowly,  "  I  begin  to  think  that  I  may 
be  in  some  danger.  After  all,  it  is 
possible  that  the  faculty  intend  to 
hold  to  that  letter."  We  admitted 
that  it  was  just  possible. 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  "  I  don't  see 
how  I'm  going  to  pass  that  exam  Sat- 
urday. This  is  Tuesday,  and  I  cer- 
tainly can't  do  a  whole  term's  work  in 
three  days."  The  moral  was  obvious ; 
but  no  one  ever  thought  of  moralizing 
in  connection  with  Bronson. 

"  Professor  Parker  is  a  good-natured 
chap,"  he  went  on  thoughtfully,  "  May 
be  if  I  bootlick  him  artistically  he'll 
let  me  through.  I  believe  I'll  try  it ; 
it's  my  only  chance,  anyway."  He 
paused  a  moment  and  then  added  po- 
158 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

litely,  "  It's  awfully  good  of  you  fel- 
lows to  take  this  trouble  for  me." 

We  waived  his  thanks,  and  urged 
him  to  brace  up,  and  not  trust  to  any- 
thing so  unreliable  as  bootlicking. 
"Oh,  don't  worry,"  he  answered,  "I'm 
sure  it  will  turn  out  all  right."  And 
we  had  learned  by  experience  that 
when  he  made  this  remark  there  was 
no  use  saying  anything  more. 

The  next  morning  it  was  pretty 
well  known  throughout  the  class  that 
Jack  Bronson  was  going  to  bootlick 
Professor  Parker.  The  news  created 
something  of  a  sensation.  That  Jack 
should  exert  himself  sufficiently  in  the 
interests  of  his  education  to  bootlick 
a  member  of  the  faculty,  was  regarded 
as  little  short  of  marvelous.  Then, 
too,  we  felt  sure  that  he  would  not 
proceed  according  to  the  cut  and  dried 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

methods  of  ingratiation.  We  looked 
for  something  new  and  striking. 

Professor  Parker  was  a  nice  old  man, 
with  about  as  much  of  an  idea  of  dis- 
cipline as  a  six  weeks'  old  kitten.  One 
of  those  delightful,  easy-going  old  gen- 
tlemen who  are  found  on  the  faculty 
of  every  college  in  the  country.  Be- 
nevolence radiated  from  his  entire  per- 
son ;  kindliness  was  written  in  the  lines 
of  his  wrinkled  face,  and  every  glance  of 
his  pleasant  old  eyes,  and  every  tone  of 
his  quiet,  leisurely  voice,  proclaimed  a 
spirit  of  universal  peace  and  good  will. 

He  knew  his  subject  thoroughly,  and 
any  one  who  was  interested  in  the 
work  could  get  a  great  deal  from  his 
course.  If  not,  you  simply  loafed 
through  the  term,  studied  a  couple  of 
hours  for  the  final,  and  then  passed  on 
a  D  minus.  Sometimes  the  Professor 
160 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

conditioned  a  man,  for  form's  sake, 
apparently,  but  he  always  let  him 
through  the  make-up,  not  that  he  was 
too  lazy  to  flunk  him  again,  but  sm% 
ply  because  he  was  utterly  incapable 
of  inflicting  pain  on  any  one. 

Naturally,  Parker  was  very  popular. 
His  elective  was  filled  to  overflowing, 
and  if  many  of  us  learned  very  little 
from  our  books,  we  learned  something 
from  contact  with  the  man,  that  was, 
perhaps,  quite  as  valuable  to  us  as 
anything  in  the  curriculum. 

That  morning  he  was  even  more 
easy-going  than  usual.  He  beamed 
upon  us  all  as  we  came  in,  called  a  few 
men  up,  helped  them  out  with  their 
recitations  good  naturedly,  and  started 
on  his  lecture.  He  concluded  it 
some  fifteen  minutes  before  the  hour, 
and  then,  after  reading  the  list  of  ab- 
161 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

sences,  proceeded  to  what  he  had  evi- 
dently been  looking  forward  to  all 
through  the  recitation. 

"  For  a  long  time,"  he  began,  "  I 
have  been  planning  an  expedition  to 
the  old  battlefield  of  Bennington.  I 
am  glad  to  say  that  at  length  the  op- 
portunity to  visit  it  has  come,  and  I 
would  like  very  much  to  have  any  of 
you  who  care  to  go  accompany  me. 
We  shall  start  this  afternoon  at  five, 
spend  the  night  at  Bennington,  and  to- 
morrow drive  out  to  the  battlefield, 
which,  as  you  know,  is  about  seven 
miles  from  the  town.  I  have  always 
tried,"  he  continued,  "  to  awaken  an 
interest  in  American  history  among 
the  men  who  take  this  course,  and  if  I 
have  succeeded  with  any  one  of  you,  I 
think  I  can  promise  him  a  most  inter- 
esting trip." 

162 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

The  Professor  paused,  and  Bronson, 
who  was  sitting  in  the  front  row,  said 
quietly  :  "  I  should  be  delighted  to  go 
with  you,  sir,  if  you  care  to  have  me." 

We  looked  at  each  other  signifi- 
cantly. Of  course  it  was  just  what 
we  had  expected ;  and  yet  we  felt 
slightly  disappointed.  You  see,  we 
had  looked  for  something  startlingly 
original  from  Jack,  and  this  was,  after 
all,  only  what  any  of  us  would  have 
done  under  similar  circumstances. 

But  when  we  suggested  this  to  him 
after  the  recitation  he  withered  us  with 
a  look  of  scorn.  "  Really  !  "  said  he, 
"  I  gave  you  credit  for  more  discern- 
ment." We  apologized  meekly  and  he 
condescended  to  explain. 

"  You  see  what  the  whole  trouble 
is,  of  course,  don't  you?"  he  asked. 
"  You  know  Parker ;  he'd  let  me 
163 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

through  in  a  minute  if  the  rest  of  the 
faculty  would  let  him.  But  they're 
dead  onto  him,  and  if  he  passes  me 
they'll  make  him  show  them  my  paper, 
and  then  it's  all  up  with  little  Willie. 
I've  simply  got  to  win  his  heart  so 
completely  that  he'll  refuse  to  let  them 
see  it,  and  stick  by  his  refusal." 

"  Of  course,"  he  went  on,  noticing 
our  incredulous  air,  "  Of  course  I'm 
not  going  to  trust  entirely  to  my  own 
personal  charms.  I  may  be  conceited, 
but  I  hope  I'm  not  quite  so  bad  as 
that.  But  I  have  an  idea.  I  can't  tell 
you  what  it  is  just  now ;  but  if  you 
want  to  find  out  come  round  to  my 
room  at  half-past  four."  And  he 
positively  refused  to  tell  us  anything 
further. 

Promptly  at  four-thirty  we  turned 
up  at  his  room.  Bronson  was  packing 
164 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

for  the  trip.  His  suit  case  lay  open  on 
the  floor,  and  upon  the  divan  was  what 
looked  like  a  very  rusty  old  cannon 
ball.  Some  one  started  to  lift  it  out 
of  the  way,  but  Jack  stopped  him. 
"Don't  touch  it,"  said  he,  "That  is 
my  idea."  And  then  he  explained  the 
whole  scheme  to  us. 

"You  see,"  he  began,  "  I  remember 
reading  somewhere  that  every  man 
had  his  weak  point,  and  if  you  only 
knew  what  it  was  you  could  do  any- 
thing you  pleased  with  him.  So  I  re- 
flected that  Parker's  weak  point  was 
American  history,  and  if  I  attacked 
him  there  I  stood  a  good  chance  of 
winning. 

"  You  will  notice  this  object,"  indi- 
cating the  ball  with  a  wave  of  his 
hand.  "  Between  you  and  me  that  is 
the  old  sixteen-pound  shot  that  the 
165 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

athletic  team  used  last  October  at  the 
fall  meet.  They  forgot  to  take  it  back 
to  the  Gym.,  and  I  saw  it  lying  out  on 
Weston  Field  one  day,  just  before  the 
Christmas  vacation.  As  soon  as  Par- 
ker proposed  the  trip  to  Bennington  I 
thought  of  this  shot  and  went  down  to 
look  for  it.  It  was  just  where  I  had 
seen  it  last,  and  I  carried  it  up  here. 
Of  course,  it  is  very  rusty,  but  that's 
all  the  better."  He  paused  to  light  a 
cigarette,  and  then  went  on. 

"  Now,  let  me  briefly  outline  our 
programme  for  to-night  and  to-mor- 
row. We  drive  to  Bennington  and 
have  dinner.  After  dinner  I  betray  a 
deep  interest  in  the  battle,  and,  of 
course,  Parker  is  delighted  to  tell  me 
all  about  it.  Well,  we  finally  go  to 
bed,  and  the  next  morning,  just  as  we 
are  starting  out,  I  propose  that  we 
166 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

take  a  spade  along  and  dig  for  relics. 
He  approves  of  the  scheme,  and  dur- 
ing the  course  of  the  day  we  discover 
the  old  Revolutionary  cannon  ball 
which  you  observe  on  the  divan.  We 
return  in  triumph,  and  I'll  guarantee 
that  Parker  will  resign  from  the  faculty 
sooner  than  let  me  be  dropped  for 
flunking  his  exam." 

We  simply  gasped.  The  magnitude 
of  the  plan  fairly  took  our  breath 
away.  Bronson  received  our  congrat- 
ulations with  modest  pride,  and  asked 
us  to  help  him  pack. 

But  now  an  unlocked  for  difficulty 
presented  itself.  The  ball  was  too 
large  to  go  into  the  suit  case  Jack 
was  in  despair.  "  Haven't  you  a  big 
valise  ?  "  suggested  some  one.  "  Yes, 
I  know,"  he  answered,  disconsolately, 
"  but  I  hate  to  carry  a  valise ;  it  always 
167 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

looks  so  sloppy."  He  really  seemed 
quite  distressed  about  it,  but  finally, 
with  a  sigh,  he  submitted  to  the 
inevitable. 

Just  as  we  finished  packing,  the  Pro- 
fessor appeared  in  front  of  Morgan, 
seated  in  a  broad,  comfortable  looking 
buckboard,  that  had  done  service  on 
many  similar  expeditions. 

"  There  he  is,"  said  Jack ;  "  we 
mustn't  keep  him  waiting.  Have  I 
everything  packed?  Let  me  see  ;  shot 
at  the  bottom ;  heavy  shoes ;  old  golf 
suit ;  clean  shirt  and  two  extra  collars  ; 
soap  box,  brushes,  sponge  and  pajamas. 
Anything  else ?  O,  yes;  my  pipe  !" 

He  put  this  last  article  in  his  pocket 
and  went  down  stairs.  From  the  win- 
dow we  saw  htm  place  the  valise  care- 
fully under  the  seat  and  then  clamber 
into  the  wagon  himself.  The  Professor 
168 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

clucked  to  his  horse,  and  the  expedi- 
tion to  Bennington  disappeared  down 
the  road. 

If  to  be  talked  of  is  fame,  Jack  was 
famous  that  night.  Nothing  like  this 
had  ever  been  heard  of  in  all  the  an- 
nals of  bootlicking,  and  every  one 
had  something  to  say  about  it.  Some 
predicted  success;  others,  failure;  but 
all  agreed  that  the  plan  could  only 
have  originated  with  Jack  Bronson. 

We  expected  him  back  about  nine 
o'clock  Thursday  evening,  and  a  lot  of 
us  went  up  to  his  room  to  wait  for 
him.  However,  it  was  almost  ten  be- 
fore the  sound  of  wheels  on  the  drive- 
way, followed  by  a  loud  "Whoa!"  an- 
nounced his  return. 

"Good  night,  Mr.  Bronson,"  said  the 
voice  of  Professor  Parker  (and  as  soon 
as  he  began  to  speak  we  could  tell 
169 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

that  he  was  fairly  trembling  with  joy- 
ful excitement).  "  Good  night,  sir  ! 
Good  night !  This  has  been  a  most 
fortunate  expedition  ;  and  its  success 
is  entirely  due  to  you,  for  I  should 
never  have  found  it  if  you  hadn't  gone 
with  me.  Good  night  again  !  " 

"  Good  night,  Professor,"  answered 
Jack,  and  then  we  heard  him  coming 
up  stairs.  We  rushed  out  and  fell 
upon  him  in  a  body. 

"  Quick  !  Tell  us  about  it !  How  did 
it  turn  out?  Did  he  find  it?  Is  he 
going  to  let  you  through?  When 

"  Shut  up  all  of  you  ! "  answered 
Bronson,  "  or  I'll  go  straight  to  bed 
without  telling  you  a  thing.  Now 
then,"  he  continued,  as  we  stopped, 
utterly  cowed  by  this  threat ;  "  first 
of  all,  has  anyone  something  to  eat  ? 
I'm  half  starved." 

170 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

We  gave  him  a  box  of  crackers, 
and  he  ate  them  for  what  seemed  an 
interminable  time.  Finally  he  fin- 
ished, lit  his  pipe,  leaned  back  in  the 
most  comfortable  chair  in  the  room, 
and  began. 

"  Well,  I  had  a  splendid  time.  Par- 
ker is  a  great  old  boy,  and  he  treated 
me  so  white  that  I  felt  ashamed  of 
myself  for  fooling  him.  We  didn't  get 
to  Bennington  until  quite  late.  It's  a 
long  drive  anyway,  and  it's  a  good 
deal  longer  behind  that  horse  of  his. 
Really,  though,  the  trip's  worth  tak- 
ing ;  we  had  about  the  finest  sunset 
last  night  that  I  ever  saw ;  and  if  any 
of  you  are  interested  in  scenery  you 
want  to " 

But  we  were  not  interested  in  scen- 
ery, and  said  so.  Jack  looked  at  us 

reproachfully  for  a  moment,  and  then 
171 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

went  on,  exactly  as  though  there  had 
been  no  interruption. 

"  You  want  to  take  that  drive  be- 
fore you  graduate ;  it  is  really  mag- 
nificent. We  got  there  long  after 
every  one  else  was  through  dinner, 
and  they  had  to  cook  one  specially 
for  us.  But  it  was  worth  waiting  for 
when  it  came.  Yes,"  he  repeated, 
thoughtfully,  "  It  was  worth  waiting 
for. 

"Then,  after  that,  we  sat  out  on  the 
piazza,  lit  our  pipes,  and  felt  at  peace 
with  the  world  for  half  an  hour.  I  tell 
you  what,  it  was  great,  sitting  there 
with  a  good  dinner  inside  of  you,  and 
nothing  to  do  but  watch  the  smoke 
drift  off  through  the  dusk.  I  never 
felt  more  thoroughly  comfortable  in 
my  life. 

"  By  and  by  we  began  to  talk,  and 
172 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

Parker  told  me  a  lot  about  Benning- 
ton,  and  drew  a  map  of  the  battlefield 
on  the  floor  of  the  piazza.,  which  I 
copied  for  future  use. 

"  The  old  buck  really  got  eloquent. 
It  seems  that  some  relative  of  his  com- 
manded an  American  regiment,  and 
you  should  have  heard  him  describe 
the  charge  that  won  the  victory.  He 
talked  so  loud  that  one  of  the  hotel 
people  came  out  and  asked  him  if  he 
wanted  anything,  and  then  he  laughed 
and  sort  of  apologized  to  me  for  get- 
ting so  excited. 

"  Finally,  we  went  to  bed,  and  when 
Parker  wasn't  looking  I  told  the  clerk 
to  have  me  waked  at  half-past  five. 

"  Next  morning  I  got  up,  took  a  cold 
tub  and  came  down  stairs,  feeling  like 
a  prince.  I  went  round  to  the  livery 
stable  and  asked  them  for  the  best 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

horse  they  had,  and  they  gave  me  a 
little  mare  who  hadn't  been  out  for 
three  days,  so  they  said.  She  took 
those  fourteen  miles  as  if  they  were 
nothing  at  all,  and  I  got  back  long  be- 
fore eight  with  the  shot  nicely  planted 
in  the  spot  where  the  regiment  of  Par- 
ker's ancestor  had  stood.  I  located 
the  place  pretty  nearly  from  the  map. 
"When  I  reached  to  the  hotel  the 
old  gentleman  was  just  coming  down 
stairs.  He  complimented  me  on  my 
early  rising,  and  asked  me  what  I  had 
been  doing.  I  told  him  that  I  had 
been  looking  around  a  little,  which  was 
more  or  less  true,  and  we  went  in  to 
breakfast.  By  the  way,  if  any  of  yo-u 
ever  go  to  Bennington  you  want  to 
stop  at  that  hotel ;  their  cooking  is 
excellent,  and  they  have  an  awfully 
pretty  waitress. 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

"  After  breakfast  we  got  them  to  put 
up  a  lunch  for  us  and  started  off  for  an 
all  day  trip  to  the  battlefield.  When 
I  suggested  taking  a  spade  along  he 
wasn't  very  enthusiastic,  for  he  said 
the  whole  field  had  been  dug  over  for 
relics  twenty  times  before.  But  I  told 
him  we  might  happen  to  find  some- 
thing, and  that,  at  any  rate,  I  would 
do  all  the  digging. 

"  I  intended  to  save  the  cannon  ball 
for  the  afternoon,  so  we  spent  the 
morning  wandering  around  the  place, 
while  Parker  turned  himself  into  a 
guide  book.  He  got  even  more  ex- 
cited than  he  had  the  night  before,  and 
ranged  over  the  field  like  an  old  war 
horse.  It  really  was  great  to  listen  to 
him,  and  he  knows  an  awful  lot  about 
the  Revolution. 

"  You  ouht  to  have  seen  me  do  the 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

deeply-interested  act.  I  simply  laid 
myself  out  to  be  agreeable,  and  agreed 
with  all  his  pet  theories  respectfully. 
Then  he  switched  off  from  the  Revolu- 
tion and  began  to  lecture  me  on  my 
low  stand.  I  took  it  all  in  without  a 
smile,  and  promised  to  try  to  be  a 
good  boy  in  the  future.  When  he 
finally  wound  up  his  discourse  we  were 
both  ready  for  something  to  eat. 

"  We  ate  our  lunch  under  some  trees 
and  lay  in  the  shade,  smoking  and  loaf- 
ing until  about  three.  Then  I  said 
I  thought  I'd  dig  for  relics,  and  he 
laughed  and  answered,  '  All  right,  go 
ahead,'  he  would  take  a  nap.  So  I  got 
him  to  point  out  what  he  thought  was 
a  likely  place,  and  dug  around  for  over 
half  an  hour.  Of  course,  I  could  simply 
have  gone  straight  for  the  shot,  but 
I  wanted  to  do  the  job  up  artistically. 
176 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

"  Well,  after  I  had  excavated  a  small 
cellar  and  was  feeling  pretty  tired,  I 
thought  it  was  about  time  to  work  up 
to  the  climax.  So  I  went  over  to  the 
Professor  and  told  him  I  was  going  to 
try  the  place  where  the  regiment  of 
the  original  Parker  had  stood.  He 
got  quite  interested  at  that,  and  said 
he  '  guessed  he'd  come  and  watch  me.' 

"  I  started  about  eight  feet  from  the 
shot  and  dug  straight  towards  it. 
When  I  got  pretty  close,  Parker  asked 
if  I  didn't  want  him  to  take  a  turn.  I 
had  intended  to  find  the  '  relic  '  myself, 
but,  of  course,  I  saw  at  once  how  much 
better  it  was  to  let  him  do  it,  so  I  gave 
him  the  spade  and  sat  down  to  wait 
for  developments. 

"  He  dug  for  a  minute  or  two,  and 
then  I  saw  him  drop  down  on  his 

knees  and  begin  to  scrape  around  in 

177 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

the  dirt  with  his  hands.     Suddenly  he 
gave  a  yell  like  an  Indian. 

"'  What's  the  matter?'  said  I, 
innocently. 

"  '  Matter  ! '  he  cried,  and  I  swear 
the  old  fellow  was  almost  crying  from 
pure  joy  ;  '  Matter ! '  he  lifted  out  the 
shot  and  held  it  up  triumphantly! 

" '  Do  you  know  what  this  is  ? '  he 
asked. 

"  I  did,  but  I  thought  I'd  better  not 
tell  him. 

"  '  No,'  said  I,  '  I  don't.' 

"  His  voice  sank  into  an  awed 
whisper. 

" '  It's  a  cannon  ball,'  said  he ; 
'  found  in  the  exact  spot  where  my 
ancestor  stood !  Perhaps  it  was  fired 
at  his  very  regiment!  Mr.  Bronson, 
this  is  a  most  priceless  relic  of  the 
Revolution ! ' 

178 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

"  Well,  naturally,  I  was  all  sympa- 
thetic enthusiasm  in  a  minute.  He 
gloated  over  that  shot  as  though  it 
had  been  a  gold  nugget,  and  would 
hardly  let  me  carry  it  for  him.  Then, 
of  course,  everybody  at  the  hotel  had 
to  hear  about  it ;  and  you  should 
have  seen  him  standing  there,  beam- 
ing away,  while  they  all  congratulated 
him. 

"  Finally  we  got  started  for  home, 
and  he  talked  a  steady  stream  all  the 
way  back,  and  thanked  me  over  and 
over  again  for  going  with  him.  Doubt- 
less you  witnessed  from  the  window 
our  affecting  good  nights. 

"That's  all  there  is  to  tell,  except 
that  I'll  bet  four  to  one  with  any  man 
here  that  I  pass  that  exam." 

But  not  even  the  most  reckless  of  us 
would  take  him  up. 
179 


The  Bootlicking  of  Bronson. 

The  next  day  Professor  Parker 
brought  the  shot  into  the  class-room, 
and  we  listened  with  much  outward 
gravity  to  the  description  of  its  dis- 
covery. Only  once  did  we  come  near 
breaking  down,  and  that  was  when  the 
good  Professor  remarked  innocently  : 

"  I  am  unable  as  yet  to  discover  the 
significance  of  the  lettering  on  the 
ball  —  '  W.  &  D.,  Boston  '  —  but  I  pre- 
sume that  '  W.  &  D.'  may  be  the 
initials  of  the  company  who  made  it." 

Subsequently  the  "  relic  "  was  placed 
in  Clark  Hall,  and,  after  a  considerable 
portion  of  the  college  had  viewed  it,  the 
manager  of  the  athletic  team  wrote  to 
Professor  Parker,  explaining  the  situa- 
tion, and  asking  him  to  return  the  shot. 

It  was  returned. 

But  long  before  that  happened  Bron- 
son had  passed  his  examination. 
1 80 


HIS  FIRST  RUSH 


His  First  Rush. 


A/TRS.  KENDALL'S  devotion  to 
her  son  amounted  almost  to  a 
religion.  It  was  delightful  in  theory, 
but  rather  a  mingled  blessing  in  prac- 
tice, and  Mr.  Kendall,  who  for  some 
years  had  viewed,  with  increasing 
anxiety,  the  development  of  his  off- 
spring's character  in  the  hothouse 
atmosphere  of  motherly  solicitude, 
decided  that  it  was  time  to  interfere, 
if  Percy  was  ever  going  to  amount 
to  anything.  College  was  the  readiest 
solution  of  the  question,  and  Wil- 
liamstown  was  two  hundred  miles 
from  New  York  and  the  maternal  cod- 
dling; he  decided  to  send  Percy  to 
Williams. 

183 


His  First  Rush. 

Mrs.  Kendall,  who  was,  after  all,  a 
sensible  woman  if  rather  a  foolish 
mother,  acquiesced  in  her  husband's 
decision  after  some  opposition,  and 
went  up  to  Williamstown  the  next  fall 
to  see  Percy  settled  in  his  new  quar- 
ters ;  somehow  it  never  occurred  to 
her  that  he  was  capable  of  attending 
to  the  settling  process  himself. 

They  stayed  at  the  Greylock,  and 
were  very  pleasantly  surprised,  when 
they  came  downstairs  on  the  evening 
of  their  arrival,  to  find  Mrs.  Armitage 
and  her  daughter  in  the  dining  room. 
Now  Percy  liked  Louise  Armitage 
very  much,  and  the  month  they  had 
spent  together  at  Lakewood  the  win- 
ter before  furnished  them  with  abun- 
dant topics  for  conversation. 

"  I  wish  you  were  going  to  be  there 
this  winter,"  she  said,  as  they  were  sit- 
184. 


His  First  Rush. 

ting  after  dinner  in  one  of  the  little 
parlors ;  "  but  I  suppose  you  are  a  fix- 
ture in  Williamstown  for  some  time  to 
come.  Do  you  remember  the  long 
inclosed  piazzas  at  the  Laurel  House, 
and  the  conservatory  with  all  those 
queer-looking  palms?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  answered  Ken- 
dall, "  and  the  artificial  lake  and  the 
trees  with  the  long  moss  hanging  from 
them.  But  I  am  afraid  this  is  the  last 
chance  that  I  will  have  to  see  you  until 
next  summer.  When  do  you  leave 
here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  for  a  week.  Mamma  has 
an  idea  that  the  climate  agrees  with 
her;  it's  rather  dull  for  me,  though, 
for  I  really  don't  know  any  one  here 
well  except  Jack  Updyke.  He's  in 
college,  you  know." 

"  Yes ;  a  junior,  isn't  he  ?  " 
185 


His  First  Rush. 

"  I  believe  so ;  anyway  he's  been 
awfully  nice.  He  said  he  was  coming 
up  to  the  dance  to-night." 

"  Do  they  dance  here  ? "  asked 
Percy. 

"  Oh,  yes,  every  evening.  It's 
splendid,  there  are  so  many  men. 
Quite  a  contrast  to  the  usual  summer 
hotel,  isn't  it?  But  they're  all  sort  of 
alike,  and  what's  worse,  they  all  say 
the  same  things.  I've  really  got  tired 
of  telling  them  how  fine  the  scenery 
is,  and  I  don't  dare  ask  them  too 
much  about  the  college,  because  there 
are  such  lots  of  things  here  one  musn't 
talk  about  at  all.  It's  very  puzzling 
sometimes,  but  I  suppose  it  doesn't 
seem  so  to  them.  Still  I  wish  — " 
But  just  then  the  music  began  in  the 
ballroom  and  Louise  departed  in 
search  of  her  mother. 
1 86 


His  First  Rush. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  when  Jack 
Updyke  reached  the  hotel  that  even- 
ing, the  first  person  he  saw  was  Ken- 
dall dancing  with  Miss  Armitage,  in 
blissful  ignorance  of  the  scandalized 
looks  of  the  upper  classmen  present. 

"  How  does  that  strike  you  for 
freshness?"  said  one  of  them  to  Jack 
as  he  came  in,  "  he's  been  dancing 
here  for  twenty  minutes  and  he  won't 
leave  that  girl  long  enough  to  give  us 
a  chance  to  call  him  down." 

Updyke  was  rather  amused  to  hear 
the  meek,  ladylike,  be-mothered  Percy 
called  fresh.  "  I  don't  believe  he 
understands,"  said  he,  "  I'll  speak  to 
him  myself." 

And,  being  a  person  of  considerable 

tact,  he  crossed  the  floor,  greeted  Mrs. 

Kendall  effusively,  insisted  on  taking 

Percy  off  with  him  to  see   his   room, 

187 


His  First  Rush. 

and  had  him  half  way  down  Main 
street  before  he  had  a  chance  to 
object.  Then  Updyke  walked  him 
around  for  half  an  hour  and  told 
him  things.  Kendall  listened  with  a 
growing  bewilderment. 

"  But  how  was  I  to  know  that  fresh- 
men weren't  allowed  to  dance  at  the 
Hotel?"  he  protested;  "I  suppose 
I've  got  all  those  fellows  down  on 
me?  " 

"  Oh  it's  not  quite  so  bad  as  that," 
said  Jack,  laughing,  "  but  you  see 
there  are  a  lot  of  things  that  a  man 
has  to  be  careful  of  when  he  first 
comes  here,  if  he  doesn't  want  to  queer 
himself."  And  then  he  preached  to 
Kendall  the  great  doctrine  of  college 
custom,  which  seems  so  foolish  to 
the  outsider,  and  so  vital  to  the 
undergraduate. 

188 


His  First  Rush. 

If  Percy  had  not  been  an  exceed- 
ingly meek  individual  he  would  prob- 
ably have  resented  Updyke's  patron- 
age, for  they  were  about  of  an  age ; 
but  instead,  he  thanked  him  humbly 
and  returned  to  the  Greylock,  to 
parry  as  well  as  he  could  his  mother's 
inquiries  as  to  what  he  had  been 
doing. 

During  the  next  few  days  he  was 
pretty  well  occupied.  He  bought  fur- 
niture, saw  the  Registrar,  attended  his 
first  recitations,  and  incidentally  met 
a  good  many  of  his  class.  His  mother 
left  the  day  college  opened,  and  Percy 
missed  her  more  than  he  had  expected 
to ;  but  he  was  too  busy  to  feel  home- 
sick just  yet, —  that  came  later. 

He  was  sitting  in  his  room  one  after- 
noon when  there  was  a  knock  at  the 
door,  and  Updyke  came  in. 
189 


His  First  Rush. 

"  I  thought  I'd  stop  for  you,"  he 
said  ;  "  all  ready  for  the  ball  game  ?  " 

"  I  don't  understand,"  answered 
Kendall ;  "  what  ball  game  ?  " 

Updyke  whistled.  "  Really,  my  dear 
Percy,"  said  he,  "  pardon  me,  but  you 
need  a  nurse.  Don't  you  know  that 
the  annual  freshman-sophomore  base 
ball  game,  with  its  attendant  rush, 
occurs  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"  I  heard  something  about  it,"  re- 
plied Kendall,  "but  I  thought  I 
wouldn't  go.  I  don't  play  base  ball, 
you  know." 

"  So  I  imagined ;  but  unless  you 
want  to  be  queered  from  one  end  of 
Main  street  to  the  other  you'd  better 
hustle  right  down  to  Weston  Field 
this  afternoon  and  lay  for  sophomores. 
The  man  who  cuts  this  rush  is  apt  to 
get  himself  disliked." 
190 


His  First  Rush. 

"  O,  I  don't  want  to  get  out  of  the 
rush,"  answered  Percy  hastily  ;  and  to 
do  him  justice  he  didn't.  "  Just  wait 
until  I  change  my  clothes,  will  you? 
I  suppose  I'd  better  wear  a  sweater." 

"  It's  just  as  well  to,"  answered  Up- 
dyke ;  "  a  high  collar  is  apt  to  be  awk- 
ward in  a  rush." 

Kendall  went  into  his  bedroom  and 
returned  with  a  pair  of  worn-out 
trousers.  '  I  brought  these  with  me 
on  purpose,"  he  remarked,  holding 
them  up  for  inspection. 

Updyke  smiled ;  he  had  done  ex- 
actly the  same  thing  himself  fresh- 
man year.  "You  certainly  can't  hurt 
them,"  he  replied,  non-committally. 

The  other  went  on  with  his  prepara- 
tions ;  evidently  he  had  thought  them 
all  out  before.  He  put  on  the  trous- 
ers, fastened  them  with  a  disreputable 
191 


His  First  Rush. 

belt,  and  then,  having  donned  his 
sweater  and  slipped  on  a  very  ancient 
coat,  stood  up  with  the  air  of  one  who 
has  made  up  his  mind  to  face  what 
must  be  faced  cheerfully.  "  I'm  all 
ready,"  he  announced. 

Updyke  laughed  outright.  "  You 
talk  as  if  you  were  going  to  war,"  said 
he;  "it's  only  a  ball  game." 

Percy  colored.  "  But  there'll  be  a 
rush,  won't  there?"  he  asked 
defensively. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  junior,  "but  a 
rush  isn't  such  a  very  serious  affair 
after  all."  He  looked  out  of  the 
window.  "  The  fellows  seem  to  be 
going  down,"  said  he ;  "  suppose  we 
start." 

The  two  went  down  stairs,  Kendall 
carefully  locking  his  study  door,  after 
the  manner  of  freshmen  during  the 
192 


His  First  Rush. 

first  few  weeks  of  the  fall  term.  On 
the  way  Updyke  proceeded  to  tell  his 
companion  something  about  the  nature 
of  the  afternoon's  amusement. 

"  You  see,"  he  explained,  "  the  game 
is  only  a  fake ;  the  sophomores  almost 
always  win  ;  the  main  thing  is  the  rush, 
and  the  fun  that  the  seniors  have  with 
the  freshmen.  You'd  better  stick  close 
to  your  class,  and  don't  make  yourself 
any  more  prominent  than  you  can 
help,  or  you  may  get  into  trouble. 
There  go  some  fellows  I  want  to  speak 
to,"  he  added,  as  a  group  of  juniors 
passed  by  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street ;  "  I'll  see  you  later.  Good- 
bye," and  he  was  gone. 

Kendall  walked  on  alone,  hoping 
that  he  didn't  look  as  nervous  as  he 
felt.  The  first  weeks  of  college  are 
rather  bewildering,  and  he  lived  in  a 


His  First  Rush. 

state  of  constant  apprehension,  for 
fear  he  should  do  something  to  queer 
himself ;  for  Jack  had  not  failed  to 
impress  upon  him  the  vast  number  of 
ways  by  which  a  freshman  may 
accomplish  that  deplorable  result. 

Just  at  present,  however,  he  was 
chiefly  concerned  about  the  rush  ;  he 
wondered  what  it  would  be  like,  and 
whether  there  was  much  chance  of  his 
getting  badly  hurt.  Various  stories 
that  he  had  heard  at  home  recurred 
unpleasantly  to  his  mind.  At  any  rate 
he  was  in  for  it  now,  and  he  might  just 
as  well  make  the  best  of  things.  After 
all  it  would  be  something  to  talk  of. 
A  rush  was  only  a  rush,  and  he  was  a 
fool  to  be  so  frightened  about  it. 

"Oh,  Fresh!" 

Percy  jumped  as  if  he  had  been 
shot,  and  a  party  of  sophomores  just 
194 


His  First  Rush. 

behind  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter 
and,  hustling  him  out  of  the  way,  went 
on  down  the  street.  Blushing  furi- 
ously, and  trying  to  look  as  if  he  didn't 
know  it,  he  started  to  walk  on,  when 
he  was  hailed  by  a  man  in  his  own  class, 
whom  he  knew  slightly. 

"  Hello,  Kendall !  Going  to  the 
game?  " 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  and  the  two 
went  down  together. 

Weston  Field  presented  quite  a  fes- 
tive appearance.  Almost  the  whole 
college  was  there.  Between  home  and 
first  base  the  sophomores  were  lined 
up  in  a  solid  body,  and  their  yell  rang 
out  at  intervals,  sharp  and  distinct,  in 
marked  contrast  to  the  straggling  cheer 
that  came  from  the  crowd  of  freshmen, 
gathered  between  home  and  third. 
The  upper  classmen  were  seated  in  the 


His  First  Rush. 

grand  stand,  and  quite  a  number  of 
visitors  had  come  to  look  on,  most  of 
them  in  carriages  of  one  sort  or 
another.  Presently  a  coach  came 
through  the  rustic  entrance  gate 
with  a  great  blowing  of  horns  and, 
bowling  up  the  field  at  a  fast  trot, 
swung  into  position  on  the  east  side 
of  the  diamond. 

There  was  some  delay  in  starting 
the  game,  but  at  last  the  umpire 
called  the  two  captains  to  him  and 
tossed  up  a  coin.  The  sophomore 
glanced  at  it  and  nodded  to  his 
class,  who  cheered  vigorously ;  a  mo- 
ment later  the  team  trotted  out  to 
their  positions,  the  freshman  batter 
took  his  place,  and  the  game  began. 

As  the  first  ball  pitched  struck  the 
catcher's  mitt,  the  upper  classmen  com- 
menced to  pour  out  of  the  grand 
196 


His  First  Rush. 

stand,  the  juniors  going  among  the 
freshmen  to  encourage  them  to  deeds 
of  violence,  while  the  seniors  gathered 
on  one  side  of  the  field  and  consulted 
together  with  great  animation. 

The  man  at  the  bat  was  a  loosely- 
built  youth,  with  very  red  cheeks, 
whose  color  was  considerably  height- 
ened by  the  extremely  personal  com- 
ments showered  upon  him  by  the 
sophomores.  They  ranged  from  allu- 
sions to  his  personal  appearance  to 
remarks  on  the  utter  impossibility  of 
his  hitting  the  ball.  He  was  badly 
rattled  even  before  the  game  actually 
began,  and  when  the  pitcher  craftily 
threw  the  first  ball  straight  for  his 
head,  so  that  he  only  saved  himself  by 
a  quick  dodge,  it  destroyed  his  small 
remnant  of  self-possession.  He  hit 
wildly  at  three  distant  outs  and  re- 
197  • 


His  First  Rush. 

tired,  amid  the  triumphant  jeers  of  the 
entire  sophomore  class. 

The  next  man  was  of  a  different 
sort.  He  took  his  place  quickly,  and 
pounded  the  plate  confidently  with  his 
bat,  quite  undisturbed  by  shouts  of 
"  How  well  he  does  it !  "  "Where  did 
you  get  that  shape ? "  "I  can't  keep 
my  eyes  off  your  feet,"  and  similar 
specimens  of  sophomoric  wit.  He  let 
the  first  ball  go  by,  and,  when  the  next 
came,  knocked  a  neat  single  just  over 
the  short-stop's  head.  The  freshmen 
cheered,  the  sophomores  groaned,  the 
fielder  ran  wildly  after  the  ball,  and 
the  umpire  called  safe. 

But  the  man  who  followed  him 
went  out  on  a  little  pop  fly  to  the 
infield,  and  his  successor  sent  a 
grounder  straight  into  the  first  base- 
man's hands. 

198 


His  First  Rush. 

The  sophomores  came  in  for  their 
half  of  the  inning,  and  the  freshmen, 
aided  and  abetted  by  the  juniors,  grew 
eloquent  in  their  denunciation  of  the 
batters,  for  in  this  game  all  the  usual 
rules  of  procedure  are  laid  aside ;  a 
freshman  may,  without  reproach,  make 
himself  conspicuous  by  loud  conversa- 
tion, and  the  cheering  of  errors  is,  on 
that  day,  and  on  that  day  only,  coun- 
tenanced on  Weston  Field. 

Two  innings  went  by  without  either 
side  having  scored,  and  the  third  was 
just  beginning  when  Kendall  felt  him- 
self pushed  violently  to  one  side  by 
a  sudden  movement  of  the  crowd. 
The  cause  of  the  disturbance  was  a 
long  line  of  seniors  marching  in  single 
file,  with  their  hands  on  each  other's 
shoulders. 

They  went  straight  for  the  home 
199 


His  First  Rush. 

plate,  everybody  hastily  making  way 
for  them,  and  walked  solemnly  around 
the  diamond,  while  the  game  stopped, 
and  the  players  waited  for  further  de- 
velopments. Suddenly  they  rushed 
into  the  crowd  and  returned,  bearing 
in  their  midst  three  hapless  freshmen, 
who  were  soon  standing,  hat  in  hand, 
making  trembling  speeches  to  their 
captors. 

When  their  eloquence  was  exhausted 
the  seniors  sought  other  victims,  and 
the  ball  game  speedily  degenerated 
into  a  wholly  transparent  excuse  for 
horse  play.  They  placed  the  batter 
on  the  scorer's  table,  and  shouted  with 
glee  when  he  swung  at  the  ball  and 
fell  off ;  they  took  up  the  bases,  and 
substituted  instead  three  men  stand- 
ing on  all  fours ;  they  called  upon  the 
outfielders  for  "  a  few  remarks  on  the 


His  First  Rush. 

game,"  and  would  not  be  denied,  and, 
finally,  they  retired  behind  the  grand 
stand,  where  a  quartet  of  freshmen 
sang  for  their  edification. 

All  this  time  the  two  under  classes 
had  gradually  been  growing  more  and 
more  violent  in  their  mutual  abuse. 
They  howled  and  yelled  in  wild  at- 
tempts to  drown  each  other's  cheers. 
To  the  derisive  cry  of  "  Oh,  Fresh  !  " 
the  freshmen  responded  by  an  equally 
scornful  shout  of  "  Oh,  Sophs  !  "  and 
although  these  expressions  appear  in- 
nocent enough,  they  had  a  very  irri- 
tating effect  on  both  parties.  A  bellig- 
erent sophomore  called  loudly  on  his 
class  to  "  Rush  those  freshmen  off  the 
field,"  and  his  advice  seemed  to  find 
favor  with  them,  in  spite  of  the  defiant 
"  Don't  you  wish  you  could  ?  "  that 
greeted  it. 


His  First  Rush. 

Kendall  felt  that  matters  were  com- 
ing to  a  crisis,  and,  stuffing  his  cap  un- 
der his  sweater  to  keep  it  from  being 
lost,  prepared  for  battle. 

Now  the  juniors  came  to  the  fore, 
and  with  shouts  of  "  Close  up ! " 
"  Bunch  together  there!"  formed  the 
freshmen  into  a  compact  body,  with 
the  largest  men  in  front.  Then  one  of 
them,  who  had  thoughtfully  stolen  a 
sophomore  sweater  earlier  in  the  after- 
noon, handed  it  to  a  man  in  the  center 
of  the  mass,  with  instructions  to  wave 
it  upside  down  when  the  proper  mo- 
ment came. 

Everything  now  being  ready,  the 
sweater  was  elevated  on  high,  amid 
loud  cheers  from  the  freshmen,  and 
cries  of  "  Oh,  Sophs,  are  you  going  to 
stand  that  ? "  from  the  upper  classes. 
Evidently  the  sophomores  were  not ; 
202 


His  First  Rush. 

they  gathered  together  in  close  order, 
and  came  rushing  across  the  field. 
Kendall,  who  somewhat  against  his 
will,  found  himself  in  the  front  rank, 
wondered  vaguely  what  was  going  to 
happen  to  him  when  the  crash  came, 
but  he  really  didn't  have  time  to  be 
very  much  frightened.  The  green 
strip  of  grass  between  the  classes  nar- 
rowed rapidly  ;  the  flushed,  excited 
faces  of  the  advancing  sophomores 
glared  close  into  his  ;  there  was  a  great 
heave  of  the  mass  behind  him,  and 
the  rest  was  blind,  suffocating,  intoler- 
able pressure,  with  a  man  striking  at 
his  head. 

The  front  ranks  of  both  parties  were 
lifted  off  their  feet  by  the  force  of  the 
encounter,  and  held  there;  when  they 
came  to  earth  again  the  rush  had  re- 
solved itself  into  a  confused  mass  of 
203 


His  First  Rush. 

struggling  men,  in  the  midst  of  which 
was  the  sweater.  Those  near  it  fought 
savagely  for  its  possession,  and  the 
men  on  the  outside  took  long  run- 
ning dives  and  clambered  recklessly 
over  the  heads  of  the  crowd  to  join  in 
the  main  battle  that  raged  in  the 
center.  Some  fell  down  and  the  rest 
fought  over  them,  which  is  not  so  dan- 
gerous as  it  sounds,  because,  if  one 
is  careful  to  protect  his  head,  and 
watches  a  favorable  chance  to  clamber 
up  by  the  legs  of  those  around  him,  he 
may  escape  with  very  little  damage. 

A  rush  is  too  violent  a  form  of  ex- 
ercise to  last  very  long,  and  this  one 
ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had  begun. 
The  solid  mass  broke  into  struggling 
segments ;  these,  in  turn,  split  into  lit- 
tle groups  of  three  or  four  men ;  the 
upper  classmen  ran  in  and  pulled 
204 


His  First  Rush. 

these  groups  apart  and  behold  it  was 
all  over. 

Percy  found  himself  with  a  torn 
coat  and  a  very  black  eye,  standing  with 
one  foot  through  a  derby  that  some  one 
had  been  foolish  enough  to  wear,  while 
Updyke  grinned  at  him  cheerfully. 

"  Feel  used  up  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"A  little,"  answered  Kendall,  and  in 
fact  he  felt  very  much  used  up  indeed. 
He  sat  down  to  get  his  breath  again, 
and  the  process  took  longer  than  he 
expected,  for  most  of  it  had  been 
driven  forcibly  out  of  him.  Just  as  he 
was  beginning  to  feel  better  some 
seniors  came  along,  escorting  two  very 
scared  looking  men. 

"  Here's  the  freshman  who  danced  at 
the  hotel,"  called  one,  noticing  Kendall 
sitting  there ;  "  let's  bring  him  along, 
too." 

205 


His  First  Rush. 

Percy  remembered  what  followed  as 
one  remembers  a  bad  dream.  The 
seniors  led  their  victims  in  front  of 
one  of  the  carriages  at  the  edge  of  the 
field,  and  made  them  dance  for  the 
amusement  of  its  occupants.  He  was 
too  conscious  of  the  very  absurd  figure 
he  must  cut  to  dare  to  lift  his  eyes 
from  the  ground  until  the  performance 
was  over ;  and  when  he  did  so  he 
wanted  nothing  so  much  as  a  place  to 
hide  in.  For  there  on  the  front  seat, 
laughing  quite  as  heartily  as  any  one, 
sat  Louise  Armitage. 

He  called  on  her  that  evening.  He 
felt  that  matters  couldn't  possibly  be 
made  any  worse  than  they  were,  and 
she  was  going  away  the  next  morning. 
So  he  appeared  at  the  hotel,  black  eye 
and  all,  and  found  her  in. 

"  I  hope  you  have  enjoyed  your 
206 


His  First  Rush. 

visit  here,"  he  said,  as  he  shook  hands 
with  her.  "  At  any  rate,  you'll  have 
an  awfully  good  story  to  tell  about 
me." 

But  Louise  was  a  very  nice  girl,  and, 
moreover,  she  liked  Percy. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  I  don't  think 
I  will.  You  know  I  said  that  there 
were  some  things  here  one  mustn't 
talk  about  at  all — well,  this  is  one  of 
them." 


207 


TEMPORA  MUTANTUR 


209 


Tempora  Mutantur. 


T  F  there  is  one  time  in  all  the  year 
when  one  can  call  himself  most 
fortunate  in  being  a  Williams  man  and 
an  undergraduate,  it  is  during  the  last 
two  or  three  days  of  May.  For  most 
it  is  a  time  of  pure  carelessness  and 
enjoyment. 

To  be  sure,  those  who  set  their  hap- 
piness on  being  somebody  and  figuring 
in  a  prominent  position  in  college,  are 
apt  to  have  work  enough  and  worry 
enough.  For  instance,  if  you  are  a 
sophomore  and  of  this  ilk,  you  will  be 
chosen,  perhaps,  on  the  Prom,  commit- 
tee, and  then  you  will  find  yourself  no 
end  busy  with  the  thousand  and  one 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

arrangements  connected  with  the 
dance  —  pillaging  your  friends'  rooms 
for  decorations  for  the  Gym. ;  receiving 
the  palms  and  other  potted  plants  that 
come  up  from  Troy,  and  tending  to 
numberless  other  details.  Perhaps 
you  have  dramatic  talent  and  are  cast 
for  the  comedy  which  "  Cap  and  Bells  " 
is  to  give,  and  then,  of  course,  you  can 
have  no  thought  for  anything  else. 
Or,  possibly,  you  may  be  the  manager 
of  the  base  ball  team  and  have  the 
grave  responsibility  on  your  shoulders 
of  winning  the  Decoration  Day  game 
and  of  providing  good  weather  there- 
for. But  supposing  you  are  none  of 
these,  only  an  ordinary  undergradu- 
ate, without  ambitions  for  collegiate 
distinction  —  or,  at  least,  ambitions 
which  have  materialized  —  you  can 
have  a  most  thoroughly  good  time. 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

For  two  or  three  days  you  have  very 
little  to  do  with  your  books.  There 
are  recitations  and  lectures,  of  course, 
except  on  the  Thirtieth,  and  it  is  just 
as  well  to  go  to  them  if  you  are  short 
of  cuts  and  have  no  other  engagements ; 
but  preparation  is  hardly  expected  and 
quite  out  of  the  question,  anyway. 
Even  the  most  abandoned  grinds  allow 
the  dust  to  collect  on  their  desks  — 
nor,  if  scientific,  do  the  Labs,  see  them 
for  forty-eight  hours  together  —  while 
they  sally  forth  in  ducks  and  ne'glige 
shirts  to  track  meets  or  tennis  games, 
or  mayhap  to  no  more  profitable  occu- 
pation than  mere  idle  saunterings  and 
smokings  on  the  soft  new  grass,  with  a 
neglect  that  is  shocking  of  precious 
time  and  patent  opportunities. 

The  latter  part  of  May  is  the  play- 
day  season  of  the  year.  You  can 
213 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

stand  in  the  middle  of  Main  street  and 
look  in  either  direction  under  the  arch 
of  the  trees,  into  a  very  paradise  of 
new  verdure  —  and  with  more  or  less 
of  a  belief  in  earthly  paradises,  too. 
Summer  is  just  in  the  first  triumphant 
flush  of  her  youth.  The  sky  is  soft 
and  blue,  the  air  mild,  and  the  Berk- 
shires  stand  clad  in  a  green  seductive- 
ness that  is  a  thousand  times  more 
fetching  than  the  vaunted  splendors 
of  their  autumn  attire.  Very  com- 
monplace things  are  these,  blue  sky 
and  green  hills ;  but  they  do  not  seem 
commonplace  when  the  recollection  is 
still  fresh  of  the  long  winter,  or  when 
you  have  not  yet  forgotten  the  rain 
and  the  chill  and  the  mud  of  that  in- 
terregnum of  anarchy  between  a  New 
England  winter  and  summer,  which  is 

charitably  called  spring. 
214 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

And  then  there  is  more  color  about 
the  streets  than  at  other  times,  and  a 
few  soprano  voices  can  be  heard  in 
chapel  mingled  with  the  accustomed 
masculine  bass,  when  the  hymn  is  sung. 
Williams  entertains  friends  from  sister 
colleges,  and  from  the  neighboring 
cities,  after  the  long  months  of  hiber- 
nation. 

They  begin  to  come  a  day  or  two 
before  the  festivities  commence,  and 
are  shown  about  the  town  and  the  col- 
lege buildings  or  taken  to  drive  out  in 
the  country.  They  are  conscious  of 
being  favored  guests,  and  the  happy 
interest  they  take  in  everything  is  in- 
fectious. Many  a  man  becomes  quite 
enthusiastic  in  pointing  out,  among 
the  treasures  of  Clark  Hall,  the  price- 
less jaw  bone  of  some  ancient  geologi- 
cal unpronounceable,  and  explaining 
215 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

how  desirous  was  the  curator  of  such 
and  such  a  museum  to  get  that  jaw 
bone  at  any  cost,  and  how  his  tenders 
had  been  rejected ;  or  on  showing  the 
other  objects  of  interest  connected 
with  his  Alma  Mater — the  existence 
of  which,  in  all  probability,  he  had 
been  quite  ignorant  of,  until,  out  of 
the  necessity  of  playing  the  cicerone, 
came  some  slight  knowledge  of  the 
place  he  had  been  living  in  for  several 
years. 

A  great  shout  of  triumph  went  up 
when  the  last  man  crossed  the  plate, 
bringing  to  an  end  the  wild  cheering 
which  had  continued  without  pause 
throughout  the  last  three  innings. 
The  game  was  over  —  the  Decoration 
Day  game,  which  is  the  base  ball  game 
of  the  year.  It  had  taken  twelve  in- 
216 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

nings  to  finish  it,  but  it  had  ended 
finally  in  a  victory  for  the  home  team. 
This  was  in  keeping  with  the  old  es- 
tablished custom  of  the  college,  "  re- 
nowned for  base  ball  and  free  trade," 
that  there  should  be  on  Decoration 
Day  a  close  game,  and  yet  one  that 
should  terminate  in  victory. 

Consequently  every  one  was  hila- 
riously, even  frantically,  happy  and 
patriotic.  Confusion  reigned  on  the 
field.  The  players,  with  bat  bags  and 
sweaters  under  their  arms,  ran  for  the 
barges  which  were  to  take  them  to 
the  Gymnasium,  or  were  carried  there 
on  the  shoulders  of  enthusiastic  ad- 
mirers. The  gate  was  choked  with 
coaches  and  drags,  crowded  with  girls 
wearing  purple  ribbons  or  carrying 
flags  with  the  " W"  on  them.  The 

masses  on  foot  who  had  stood  along 
217 


Tempera  Mutantur. 

the  ropes  and  borne  the  brunt  of  the 
cheering  fell  in  behind  the  vehicles, 
hoarse  and  weary,  but  none  the  less 
enthusiastic,  and  tramped  up  through 
the  village,  singing,  "  We  want  those 
streets  all  paved  with  purple,  royal  pur- 
ple," and  the  other  familiar  snatches 
of  doggerel  through  which  the  Wil- 
liams undergraduate  gives  vent  to  his 
feelings  in  times  of  high  pressure. 

The  crowd  gathered  on  the  terrace 
at  the  east  end  of  Morgan,  dusty  and 
perspiring,  and  there  the  singing  was 
continued  in  better  form.  Then  Dr. 
Dane,  one  of  the  "  Kid  Faculty  "  and 
not  over-popular,  was  seen  crossing 
Main  street,  and  immediately  a  com- 
mittee waited  upon  him  with  an  urgent 
request  for  a  speech.  The  doctor  came 
up  on  the  sidewalk  before  the  crowd, 
said  as  many  pleasant  and  congratula- 
218 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

tory  things  as  he  could  think  of  im- 
promptu, and  was  sent  away  with  a 
cheer  that  was  more  good-natured  than 
the  one  that  had  ended  the  serenade 
he  had  been  favored  with  not  many 
weeks  before. 

Next  Jack  French,  who  had  cap- 
tained the  team  to  victory  in  the  early 
nineties,  was  pounced  upon  and  made 
to  prophesy  on  the  chances  for  a  cham- 
pionship that  season.  Then  there  were 
cheers  for  the  team  as  a  whole,  and 
cheers  for  each  member  of  the  team 
individually,  and  for  the  Amherst 
players  as  they  came  out  of  the 
Gym.  and  scrambled  into  their  barge. 
One  can  do  a  great  deal  of  cheering  on 
Decoration  Day  after  a  victory  with- 
out having  it  seem  to  get  monotonous. 

By  this  time  the  crowds  were  begin- 
ning to  gather  in  front  of  the  Labs,  to 
219 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

watch  the  election  of  the  juniors  to  the 
Gargoyle  Society.  Already  several 
men  were  sitting  on  Thompson  perch, 
and  the  rest  came  by  twos  and  threes 
till  the  whole  junior  class  was 
assembled. 

There  were  some  men,  of  course, 
who  felt  sure  they  would  be  pulled  off 
the  fence  —  the  captains  and  managers 
of  the  athletic  teams  and  those  at  the 
head  of  the  other  organizations  —  and 
there  were  others  who  were  equally 
certain  that  they  would  not  be,  but 
there  still  remained  not  a  few  whose 
fate  hung  in  the  balance,  so  that  quite 
a  number  of  men  in  the  long  line  found 
it  difficult  to  maintain  the  appearance 
of  indifference  they  considered  re- 
quired of  them. 

Bigelow,  of  the  senior  class,  stood 
over  by  Kellogg,  with  his  room-mate's 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

mother  and  Miss  Blodgett,  waiting  for 
the  election  to  begin.  Bob  Spaulding 
was  a  junior,  and  consequently  had  to 
be  with  his  class  on  the  perch.  Bige- 
low  had  just  been  explaining  to  Miss 
Blodgett  the  way  in  which  the  men 
were  chosen. 

"  But  what  sort  of  a  society  is  it,  Mr. 
Bigelow  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  have  heard 
Bob  speak  of  the  Gargoyle  often 
enough,  but  I  never  asked  him  to  ex- 
plain what  it  was.  He  talks  about  so 
many  college  things  I  don't  know 
about." 

"  It's  rather  hard  to  classify  as  an  or- 
ganization, I  should  say,"  Bigelow  re- 
plied. "  Perhaps  one  might  call  it  a 
mutual  admiration  society." 

"  No,  but  what  do  they  do  when 
they  get  elected  with  all  this  fuss  ?  " 
the  girl  persisted. 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

"  Why,  in  the  first  place,  they  have 
a  banquet,  and  then  they  hold  secret 
meetings  every  little  while  and  talk  a 
great  deal  at  them,  I  understand,  and 
when  the  faculty  endangers  the  sta- 
bility or  the  good  name  of  the  college 
by  any  rash  act,  they  come  to  the 
rescue.  Now,  you  have  it  all,  I  be- 
lieve, that  is,  as  well  as  an  outsider  can 
give  it  to  you." 

"  You  are  joking  with  me  ;  you  col- 
lege men  can  never  be  serious,"  the 
girl  said  petulantly.  "  I  wish  you 
would  tell  me.  But  I  believe  you  are 
'sore'  —  that's  the  word,  isn't  it  — 
because  you  weren't  elected  last  year." 

That  was  the  word,  but  it  made 
Bigelow  wince  to  hear  a  girl  use  it. 

"  That  remark  does  more  credit  to 
your  penetration,  Miss  Blodgett,  than 
to  your  charity,"  he  answered.  "  I 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

shall  have  to  be  more  careful  in  future 
and  not  disclose  any  more  of  my  weak- 
nesses to  you." 

After  a  day  or  two's  acquaintance 
with  his  friend's  fiancee,  Bigelow  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  he  rather 
liked  her,  in  spite  of —  but  Bigelow's 
likes  were  usually  qualified  by  a  rather, 
before,  and  an  in  spite  of,  after  them. 
The  girl  was  certainly  different  from 
the  average,  and  she  interested  him  as 
a  type.  Then  she  was  pretty —  decid- 
edly pretty,  and  that  covers  a  multi- 
tude of  defects  in  a  casual  acquaint- 
ance. Still,  Bigelow  rather  wondered 
why  Bob  should  have  got  engaged  to 
her.  But  he  did  not  worry  about  this. 
The  engagement  had  lasted  ever  since 
the  time  Bob  had  entered  college,  and 
she  probably  suited  him.  Bigelow  had 

always  the  comfortable  consciousness 
223 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

that  all  men  were  not  so  fastidious  as 
he ;  and  that,  in  measuring  most  things, 
it  was  necessary  to  subtract  something 
from  his  own  standards  in  order  to  get 
normal  results. 

"Ah,  there  they  come  at  last,"  he 
said. 

The  twenty  seniors  forming  the  Gar- 
goyle Society  had  just  come  in  sight 
beyond  Kellogg.  They  were  walking 
slowly,  two  by  two,  dressed  in  their 
caps  and  gowns.  The  procession  came 
down  the  path  that  leads  across  the 
campus  to  the  Laboratories,  and  then 
turned  off  to  the  left  and  formed  a 
circle  on  the  grass. 

"  I  want  to  laugh,"  said  the  girl, 
"  but  I  suppose  I  shouldn't.  It  looks 
just  like  an  Odd  Fellows'  funeral,  only 
solemner." 

When    the   circle   was   formed,  one 
224 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

gowned  figure  left  the  others,  and, 
walking  out  to  the  path,  made  a  square 
military  turn,  and  then  went  down  to 
the  fence,  where  another  turn  was  exe- 
cuted. Then  he  walked  with  measured 
strides  along  the  line  of  expectant 
juniors. 

"That's  Kendrick,  president  of  the 
Gargoyle,"  Bigelow  explained.  "  He 
chooses  the  first  man  as  he  comes  back." 

Kendrick  reached  the  end  of  the 
fence,  faced  about  and  walked  slowly 
back,  scanning  the  row  of  attentive 
faces.  Halfway  down  the  line  he 
stopped  and  extended  his  hand  to  one 
of  the  men  on  the  fence,  who  slipped 
from  his  seat  at  once  and  was  con- 
ducted with  head  uncovered  to  the 
circle  of  seniors,  while  his  classmates 
and  the  spectators  applauded. 

"That's  Judson,  captain  of  the  foot 
225 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

ball  team,"  said  Bigelow.  "  Everyone 
knew  he  would  make  it." 

Another  Gargoyle  left  the  circle, 
went  through  the  same  elaborate 
manoeuvres  and  returned  with  a  sec- 
ond junior.  It  was  the  manager  of  the 
next  year's  base  ball  team  that  was 
chosen.  Then  followed  the  president 
of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  the  editor  of  the 
GuL,  and  the  captains  and  managers 
of  the  other  teams.  At  first  there  was 
no  very  great  interest  in  the  election. 
These  men,  from  the  offices  they  held, 
were  practically  sure  of  it.  But  as  the 
number  of  chances  decreased  and  the 
doubtful  men  began  to  be  chosen, 
there  was  considerable  suppressed  ex- 
citement among  the  juniors  and  in  the 
crowd  of  spectators. 

"Who  is  that?"  Miss  Blodgett 
asked.  "  I  danced  with  him  last  night 
226 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

in  the  Gymnasium,  but  I've  forgotten 
his  name." 

"  Harper.  He's  one  of  Bob's  quite 
intimate  friends." 

"  I  don't  like  him,"  she  said  de- 
cisively. 

Mrs.  Spaulding  gave  the  girl  a  de- 
precatory glance.  "  Why,  Margery,  I 
thought  he  was  a  very  pleasant  young 
man  when  Rob  introduced  him  to  me 
at  the  hotel." 

Mrs.  Spaulding  had  taken  no  part  in 
the  conversation  up  to  this  time.  The 
caste  of  age  is  very  strong  with  people 
who  have  lived  all  their  lives  in  coun- 
try towns,  and  she  evidently  thought 
it  would  be  an  unpardonable  intrusion 
for  a  middle-aged  matron  to  mingle  in 
the  talk  of  young  people.  This  atti- 
tude amused  Bigelow  not  a  little. 

There  remained  three  men  to  be 
227 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

chosen.  Bigelow  was  beginning  to 
feel  uneasy  about  his  friend's  chances. 
Bob  had  played  on  the  foot  ball  team 
for  three  years  at  center,  and  had  been 
one  of  the  most  faithful  workers  — 
never  brilliant,  but  steady,  and  always 
to  be  depended  upon,  and  Bigelow  had 
hoped  that  he  would  make  it. 

The  next  choice  put  his  fears  to  rest. 
The  eighteenth  man  stopped  before 
Spaulding,  and  led  him  to  the  circle 
now  almost  complete.  The  applause, 
which  had  become  rather  perfunctory 
as  time  went  on,  was  loud  and  hearty 
as  Bob  Spaulding's  six  feet  two  slipped 
off  the  fence,  for  Bob  was  one  of  the 
most  popular  men  in  the  class,  and 
had  not  an  enemy  in  college. 

"  I'm  afraid  Bob's  head  will  be  turned 
by  such  an  ovation,"  Miss  Blodgett  re- 
marked. 

228 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

She  had  said  it  laughingly,  but  there 
was  something  in  the  tone  which  made 
Bigelow  look  up  at  her  quickly. 

"  You  must  give  him  a  lesson  if  he 
gets  to  putting  on  airs,  Miss  Blodgett," 
he  said  gravely. 

"If  I  can —  but,  perhaps  that  isn't 
so  easy  as  it  sounds,"  she  answered 
gaily.  "  But  I'll  try,  I  assure  you,  if 
his  vanity  gets  too  insufferable." 

The  twentieth  man  had  just  been 
led  within  the  circle  of  seniors,  and 
now  they  all  began  marching  away 
in  double  file,  each  senior  leading  the 
man  he  had  chosen.  The  procession 
came  up  the  path,  around  in  front  of 
Kellogg,  and  down  the  driveway  be- 
fore Morgan.  They  stopped  under 
the  stone  gargoyle,  which  is  over  the 
further  of  the  two  north  entrances  of 
the  building,  and  Kendrick  stepped 

out  from  the  others. 
229 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

"  Now,  fellows,  the  old  yell  for  the 
senior  Gargoyle,  "  he  said. 

'  Rah  !  rah !  rah  !  Willyums,  yams, 

yums,  Willyums,  Ninety ,"  the 

juniors  shouted. 

"  And  now  for  next  year's  Gar- 
goyle," said  Kendrick. 

The  cheer  was  repeated,  with  the 
numerals  of  the  junior  class  at  the 
end. 

"  And  now  one  for  the  college." 

The  yell  was  given  again  and  the 
crowd  'separated. 

Bob  Spaulding  hastened  over  to  the 
sidewalk  where  his  friends  were  wait- 
ing. On  the  way  he  was  stopped  a 
dozen  times  by  men  who  were  eager  to 
congratulate  him.  Bob's  election  was 
a  surprise  to  him,  for  he  had  always 
been  inclined  to  underrate  his  own  im- 
portance on  the  team  and  in  college, 
230 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

and  the  general  approval  which  it 
called  forth  gave  him  a  great  deal  of 
pleasure. 

The  sun  had  just  gone  down  as  they 
walked  up  Main  street  to  the  Grey- 
lock,  and  above  the  green  bank  of  the 
Petersburg  range  the  sky  was  a  dull 
red.  A  quiet  reigned  in  the  broad 
elm-shaded  street  that  was  very  agree- 
able, after  the  excitement  and  com- 
motion of  the  afternoon.  People  were 
wending  their  way  supperward  in  all 
directions. 

Bob  walked  with  his  mother.  They 
had  just  turned  into  the  long  shady 
path  that  leads  from  West  up  to  the 
end  of  the  street.  Margery  was  a  lit- 
tle way  ahead  of  them  with  Bigelow. 

Bob  could  see  that  people  turned  to 
look  at  her  in  admiration.  He  was 
aware  of  the  fact  that  wherever  he  had 
231 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

taken  her  during  the  last  two  or  three 
days  she  had  attracted  attention,  just 
as  half  his  friends  had  fallen  in  love 
with  the  photographs  he  had  of  her  in 
his  room.  He  remembered  the  feel- 
ing of  pleasure  and  pride  it  had  given 
him  to  notice  the  covert  glances  which 
the  early  acquaintances  of  his  fresh- 
man year  had  bestowed  upon  the  pic- 
ture of  her  that  stood  on  his  desk. 

For  some  reason  he  did  not  have  that 
sort  of  feeling  now.  To  tell  the  truth, 
though  he  had  never  admitted  it,  even 
to  himself,  he  had  hoped,  all  along, 
that  something  would  happen  to  pre- 
vent the  visit  that  Margery  and  his 
mother  had  planned.  He  did  not 
know  why,  or  would  not,  for  he  had 
never  allowed  the  thought  to  remain 
long  enough  in  his  mind  to  analyze  it. 
It  was  a  fear,  only,  that  in  some  way 
232 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

she  would  not  be  all  that  he  might 
wish  her  to  be,  or  that  he  once  thought 
her  to  be. 

He  had  always  combatted  the  fear, 
despising  himself  for  having  to  com- 
bat it,  just  as  now  he  was  engaged 
in  the  same  sort  of  honorless  fight 
with  what  struggled  in  his  conscious- 
ness to  be  recognized  as  the  realiza- 
tion of  it.  These  sneaking,  disloyal 
thoughts  were  a  new  thing  to  Bob 
Spaulding,  and  he  did  not  know  how 
to  deal  with  them.  He  could  not  be 
brutally  truthful  with  himself  without 
regard  for  consequences,  as  Bigelow 
always  was. 

With  a  mother's  intuition  Mrs. 
Spaulding  had  guessed  what  was  in 
Bob's  mind  —  at  least  partially — in 
the  last  few  days.  She  watched  him 
as  he  walked  on  in  silence  beside  her. 
233 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

"  Has  there  been  any  misunderstand- 
ing between  you  and  Margery,  Rob- 
ert?" she  ventured. 

Bob  looked  up  quickly. 

"  No,  mother.  What  made  you 
think  so?  Madge  and  I  are  as  good 
friends  as  ever,  I  guess."  He  was 
startled  that  the  question  should  strike 
as  closely  as  it  did. 

"  Good  friends,  Robert ;  you  should 
be  more  than  good  friends."  She 
paused  for  a  moment.  "  Since  I  have 
been  here  I  have  thought  that  you  and 
Margery  haven't  the  same  feeling  for 
one  another  as  you  used  to  have. 
Don't  think  that  I  am  reproaching  you, 
Robert,  but  I  can't  help  seeing  that 
you  have  changed  in  more  than  one 
way  —  it's  quite  natural  that  you 
should.  But  remember,  if  it  is  true 

that  you  do  not  love  Margery " 

234 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

"  But  it's  not  true,  mother,"  Bob 
burst  out  impatiently ;  "  you're  all 
wrong." 

They  walked  the  rest  of  the  way  in 
silence. 

She  detained  him  a  moment  as  he 
turned  to  leave  her  on  the  veranda  of 
the  hotel.  "  I  don't  believe  my  boy 
will  ever  lose  his  love  for  his  father 
and  mother,  even  if  he  does  give  up 
their  old-fashioned  ways,"  she  said. 
"  I  didn't  mean  you  to  think  that, 
Robert." 

Bob  was  sitting  with  the  rest  of  his 
class  in  Prof.  Harvey's  lecture  room. 
The  festivities  of  the  Thirtieth  were 
past,  the  visitors  from  out  of  town  had 
gone  away,  and  the  college  had  settled 
down  to  its  routine  of  work  and  play. 
Bob  had  been  restless  and  dissatisfied 
235 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

with  himself  ever  since  his  mother  and 
Margery  had  gone  home.  This  morn- 
ing he  was  especially  uneasy  and  would 
have  cut,  except  that  his  limit  of  ab- 
sences had  already  been  passed  some 
time  before,  and  the  number  of  over- 
cuts  increasing  ominously. 

At  first  he  made  an  attempt  to  take 
notes,  writing  down  quite  at  random, 
and  without  the  slightest  regard  for 
logical  sequence,  whatever  seemed  like 
an  important  statement  in  the  profes- 
sor's lecture.  This  was  Bob's  usual 
method  of  taking  notes;  and  why  he 
took  them  at  all  was  a  mystery,  which 
he  would  have  found  it  hard  to  explain 
very  satisfactorily.  He  never  thought 
of  looking  at  them  again,  for  when  ex- 
amination came  he  always  borrowed 
some  one  else's  note  book.  Still  a 
vague  sense  of  duty  made  him  fill  a 
236 


Tempera  Mutantur. 

book  with  something  or  other  for  each 
of  his  lecture  courses. 

This  morning  it  was  harder  than 
usual  to  follow,  with  even  tolerable 
understanding,  the  professor's  dis- 
course. Bob  gave  it  up  at  last,  and 
began  looking  out  of  the  window. 
Presently  the  Gym.  clock  struck  the 
three-quarters.  Bob  sighed  wearily. 
That  meant  forty-five  minutes  more, 
unless  Teddy  should  relent  and  let 
them  out  early. 

Then,  for  the  want  of  something 
better  to  do,  he  began  to  observe  what 
was  going  on  in  the  room.  His  seat  in 
the  back  row  commanded  a  good  view. 

A  little  further  along,  on  the  same 
line  of  seats  with  him,  Billy  White  and 
Guy  McLane  were  playing  tit-tat-toe 
on  the  fly  leaf  of  a  text  book,  and 
indulging  in  suppressed  giggles,  in  a 
237 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

manner  worthy  of  sixteen-year-old 
school  girls.  In  another  direction  Cav- 
erly  Harper  was  reading  a  yellow- 
covered  novel,  and  taking  no  pains 
that  Prof.  Harvey  should  not  notice 
his  inattention  either.  Caverly  was 
always  frank  to  a  degree  in  his  atti- 
tude toward  his  instructors.  Not  far 
away  Markham  was  composing  some 
verses  to  a  real  or  imaginary  Marjorie, 
which  would  probably  appear  among 
the  Cobwebs  in  the  next  Weekly. 

To  be  sure,  there  were  some  men 
who  were  evidently  following  the  lec- 
ture with  interest  —  more  in  fact  than 
Bob  would  have  said,  had  he  been 
asked,  but  they  did  not  form  a  large 
majority.  A  good  many  had  note 
books  in  which  they  scribbled,  list- 
lessly, when  there  was  nothing  to  dis- 
tract their  attention  elsewhere ;  and 
238 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

not  a  few  were  sitting  with  vacant 
faces  diddling  their  pencils  and  think- 
ing of  Heaven  knows  what,  certainly 
not  of  Teddy's  lecture.  In  the  very 
front  row  was  Fred  Knowles,  with  his 
head  on  his  arm,  apparently  asleep. 
Yet  in  spite  of  this  there  was  no  dimi- 
nution in  the  earnestness  of  the  pro- 
fessor's manner. 

What  a  farce  it  all  was.  Bob  had 
been  attending  just  such  exercises 
now  for  almost  three  years,  and  until 
this  morning  it  had  never  struck  him 
that  there  was  anything  peculiar  about 
them.  It  had  been  a  matter  of  course 
that  in  certain  required  subjects  one 
should  go  to  lectures  every  day,  pay 
as  little  attention  to  them  as  possible, 
and,  when  examination  time  came, 
cram  enough  from  a  syllabus  the  night 
before  to  get  through. 
239 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

At  last  the  hour  was  over.  Bob  lit 
his  pipe,  as  usual,  in  the  little  niche  in 
the  doorway  of  Hopkins,  and  strolled 
down  Spring  street  to  Watson's,  and 
loafed  about  there  for  a  while.  Some 
one  asked  him  to  play  pool  but  he  re- 
fused, without  giving  any  reason,  and 
started  for  his  room  in  Kellogg,  with 
the  rather  vague  purpose  of  looking 
over  some  German  for  an  afternoon 
quiz. 

He  found  Bigelow  there,  stretched 
out  on  the  divan  in  an  exasperatingly 
comfortable,  contented  manner,  read- 
ing a  volume  of  French  poetry. 

Bob  did  not  find  his  German  book 
in  the  bookcase,  and  began  overhaul- 
ing the  papers  and  magazines  on  the 
center  table,  with  a  great  to  do.  Big- 
elow watched  him  placidly. 

The  search  proved  vain.    Bob  began 

walking  about  the  room. 
240 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

"  Look  here,  Dud,"  he  broke  out 
suddenly,  "  I  wish  you  would  tell  me 
why  the  hell  I  came  to  college,  any- 
way." 

Bigelow  looked  at  him  with  amuse- 
ment. "  Why,  what's  wrong  with  the 
place,  Bob  ? "  he  asked.  "  I  always 
considered  you  a  most  staunch  and 
loyal  supporter  of  the  purple,  not  to 
say  a  fanatic.  This  is  rank  heresy  and 
treason." 

"  You  ought  to  have  been  in  Teddy's 
lecture  this  morning,"  the  other  inter- 
rupted, "  though  it  was  really  no  worse 
than  usual.  Why,  half  the  class  know 
absolutely  nothing  about  his  subject, 
and  never  will." 

"  Among  whom  we  might  men- 
tion?— 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,  and  it's  just  what 

makes  me  sore  on  myself." 
241 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

Bigelow  laughed.  "  Really,"  he  be- 
gan, "  I  don't  see  as  there  will  be  any 
objection  to  your  finding  out  what 
Teddy  is  lecturing  about,  if  you  choose. 
They  say  it  can  be  done,  and  while  it's 
not  the  customary  thing  to  worry  one's 
self  about  such  matters,  there's  noth- 
ing criminal  in  it." 

"Come,  Dudley,  don't  give  me  any 
more  of  that  sort  of  stuff.  I'm  tired 
of  it.  Everywhere  around  college  you 
hear  fellows  talking  about  the  courses 
they  are  taking,  as  if  they  were  the 
only  things  of  no  importance  here.  It's 
the  fashion  to  pretend  not  to  know 
anything  about  what  you  are  supposed 
to  be  studying.  With  some  of  the 
fellows  I  admit  it's  no  pretense,  but  I 
don't  see  that  that's  anything  for  them 
to  be  proud  of.  With  such  a  fellow  as 
you  it's  a  damned  affectation,  and  it 
242 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

makes  me  sick.  Seriously,  what  do 
you  think  a  man  comes  to  college  for 
if  not  to  study  and  make  the  most  of 
his  opportunities  for  study  ?  " 

Bigelow  winced  a  little  at  his  friend's 
frankness,  but  he  did  not  allow  his 
manner  to  be  ruffled  at  all  by  it. 

"  Capital,  Bob,"  he  said,  laughing. 
"You  will  outdo  in  zeal  Hedges  the 
Holy,  if  you  keep  on.  But,  seriously, 
I  think  that  is  just  what  a  man  does 
come  here  for,  if  he  has  a  taste  for  it. 
It's  really  a  good  opportunity  to  get 
an  education,  and  I'm  patriotic  enough 
to  think  one  can't  get  a  better  any- 
where in  the  country  than  just  here." 

"  Then  why  do  you  talk  that  way  ?  " 
demanded  Bob. 

"  To  be  frank  with  you,  my  dear 
boy,  I  suppose  it  is  because  I  am  just 
enough  of  an  ass  to  do  so,  for  the 
243 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

simple  reason  that  the  rest  do.  But 
that's  neither  here  nor  there.  As  I 
was  saying,  if  a  man  has  a  taste  for 
study  let  him  grind,  within  modera- 
tion, as  hard  as  he  pleases.  If  he 
hasn't  such  a  taste,  and  would  rather 
put  his  energy  into  athletics,  let  him 
devote  such  a  part  of  his  time  to  the 
curriculum  as  he  can  spare  —  enough  of 
course  to  get  through  —  and  enjoy  life 
for  the  rest  of  it.  He  will  get  a  bow- 
ing acquaintance,  at  least,  with  the  hu- 
manities, which  is  worth  something, 
and  he  can't  help  being  influenced  for 
the  good  by  personal  contact  day  after 
day  with  men  of  intellect  and  schol- 
arly attainments." 

"  By   which   you   mean,   I    suppose, 

that  if  a  man  is  unfortunate  enough  to 

be  a  blockhead  the  best  thing  he  can 

do  is  to  stay  here,  in  the  hope  that  he 

244 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

may  by  chance  absorb  something," 
suggested  Bob. 

"That's  partially  it,"  Bigelow  an- 
swered coolly.  "  The  fact  is  that 
\vhether  a  man  is  a  dunce  or  an  intel- 
lectual prodigy,  the  best  thing  he  gets 
or  can  get  from  his  college  course  is 
not  what  he  learns  from  books.  They 
have  their  worth  —  and  great  worth, 
too  —  but  the  thing  that  counts  the 
most  is  the  life  here  as  a  whole. 
That's  a  very  trite  observation.  You 
hear  it  from  everybody  —  but  it's  true, 
I  think,  notwithstanding." 

"  I  think  you're  wrong,  Dud,"  Bob 
answered  slowly.  "  I  know  you  hear 
it  everywhere,  but  I  think  it's  gen- 
erally from  fellows  too  lazy  to  work. 
It  seems  to  me  if  a  fellow  can't  learn, 
or  won't  try,  he's  no  business  to  be 
here.  He'd  better  get  out  and  sell 
245 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

beans  behind  a  counter,  or  do  some- 
thing else  that  he  can  make  a  success 
of  —  and  what  is  more,  I  think  I  shall 
put  my  theory  into  practice  before 
long,"  he  added,  with  a  short  unpleas- 
ant laugh. 

Bigelow  sat  up  quickly.  His  room- 
mate's decisive  tone  made  him  think, 
for  the  first  time,  that  something  seri- 
ous was  wrong.  Bigelow  was  a  year 
ahead  of  Spaulding,  and  this  advan- 
tage, together  with  a  certain  alertness 
of  mind  and  wider  experience,  gave 
him  an  influence  over  his  friend  that 
was  not  slight.  But  he  knew  that  if 
Bob  once  made  up  his  mind  to  a  thing, 
there  was  no  moving  him. 

"You'd  be  very  foolish  to  go  now, 
Bob,"  he  said  earnestly.  "  It's  only 
one  year  more,  and  the  letters  them- 
selves are  worth  something.  If  you 
246 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

want  to  believe  that  you  have  wasted 
time  and  opportunities  by  not  paying 
more  attention  to  the  curriculum,  be- 
lieve it.  Perhaps  you  have  In  that 
case  go  ahead  and  grind  for  the  rest 
of  your  course.  But,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  in  spite  of  wasted  opportunities 
and  all  that,  I  don't  know  a  man  whom 
college  has  done  more  for  than  your- 
self. It  has  changed  you  completely. 
You  can't  realize  it  yourself,  perhaps, 
but  you  are  not  the  same  sort  of  fel- 
low you  were  when  you  came  here 
three  years  ago." 

Bob  jumped  up  from  his  chair  and 
began  walking  up  and  down  the  room. 
"  I  know  I'm  not  — I  realize  that  quite 
as  well  as  anybody  —  better,  perhaps," 
he  added  a  little  bitterly.  "  I've  got  a 
lot  of  damn  silly  notions  in  my  head, 

for  one  thing,  that  I  didn't  have  when 
247 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

I  came  here,  and  a  good  many  lazy 
habits  for  another,  and  a  great  dis- 
inclination, besides,  to  fill  the  posi- 
tion in  life  I've  been  booked  for.  You 
know  about  what  my  case  is.  I  am 
an  only  child,  and  father  and  mother 
thought  it  would  be  a  good  stunt  to 
send  me  to  college.  They  didn't  have 
any  particular  purpose  in  view  for  me, 
nor  I  for  myself,  but  they  could  afford 
it  easily  enough,  and  they  thought,  in 
their  ignorance,  that  it  would  make 
more  of  a  man  of  me.  Consequently, 
here  I  am." 

Bigelow  watched  his  friend  nar- 
rowly. Bob  was  evidently  deeply 
moved,  and  Bigelow  thought  he  per- 
ceived a  specific  cause  for  his  dissatis- 
faction with  himself  under  the  general 
reasons  he  had  given.  At  any  rate,  it 
was  not  the  fact  Spaulding  had  found 
248 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

out  that  he  was  failing  to  learn  as 
much  Latin  and  Math,  as  some  of  his 
classmates,  or  that  he  was  frittering 
away  his  time  in  idleness,  that  made 
him  think  of  leaving  the  place.  That 
was  more  or  less  of  a  pretext.  The 
truth  was,  he  had  suddenly  come  to 
the  realization  of  the  fact  that  the  in- 
fluences he  had  come  under  at  college 
had  been  drawing  him  further  and  fur- 
ther away  from  the  old  life  to  which 
he  was  doubly  pledged ;  and  this,  he 
felt,  was  treason.  Whether  there  was 
anything  more  definite  than  this  it  was 
certain  Bob's  pride  would  not  let  him 
disclose. 

Bigelow  could  see  that  it  would  be 
foolish  for  him  to  try  to  dispossess 
Bob  now  of  the  idea  that  college  was 
causing  a  breach  between  him  and 
the  old  associations.  The  only  thing 
249 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

was  to  frankly  admit  this  to  be  true, 
and  then  overrule  the  objection  with 
considerations  of  more  weight.  It  was 
a  risky  thing  to  do,  but  he  decided 
to  try  it.  Bigelow  was  conscious 
of  the  influence  he  had  always  had 
over  Bob — an  influence  due  primarily, 
perhaps,  to  the  fact  that  he  had 
broader,  more  mature,  and,  as  a  gen- 
eral rule,  more  correct  views  on  most 
subjects  than  his  friend ;  but  quite  as 
much  because  he  always  asserted  them 
with  a  cool  indifferent  sort  of  superi- 
ority which  causes  conviction  of 
itself. 

"  College  has  made  you  more  of  a 
man,  Bob,"  he  said,  decisively.  "  And 
I  think  you  will  acknowledge  it  if  you 
reflect.  It  has  given  you  new  ideas, 
which  you  are  pleased  to  call  '  damn 
silly  notions,'  though  you  really  don't 
250 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

believe  them  silly  notions;  it  has  re- 
fined your  tastes,  developed  your  char- 
acter, and  given  you  a  broader  and 
more  sympathetic  view  of  men  and 
things.  And  what  did  you  come  to 
college  for  if  not  that  very  thing?" 

Spaulding  preferred  looking  uncon- 
vinced to  any  more  direct  response. 

Bigelow  continued :  "  When  you 
came  here  —  if  you  pardon  me  for  say- 
ing it —  you  were  nothing  but  a  green 
village  lad.  Up  to  that  time  you  had 
only  a  very  narrow  circle  of  associates, 
all  of  them  with  more  or  less  the  same 
interests.  You  came  here,  and  for 
three  years  you  have  mixed  with  fel- 
lows of  all  sorts  and  conditions,  rich 
and  poor,  gawky  farmer  boys,  and 
fellows  who  have  every  social  advan- 
tage, gospel  sharks  and  dead  game 
sports ;  in  fact,  men  of  every  station 
251 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

in  life,  with  aims  as  diverse  as  the  cut 
of  their  clothes,  and  what  is  more,  you 
have  associated  with  them  on  terms  of 
an  intimacy,  which  —  without  any 
great  experience  in  the  world  —  I 
should  say,  was  only  possible  in  such 
a  genuine  democracy  as  the  American 
college." 

"  Oh  damn  your  democracies,"  Bob 
muttered. 

"  This  has  naturally  changed  you," 
Bigelow  pursued  calmly,  "  and  you 
must  admit  the  change  was  for  the 
better,  even  though  it  carries  with  it 
some  discomfort  to  yourself  and  others. 
But,  at  any  rate,  it  is  irremediable.  If 
you  think  that,  by  any  possible  means, 
you  could  leave  college  and  revert  to 
the  country  boy  stage,  you  are  mis- 
taken. That's  out  of  the  question. 
The  damage  is  done,  if  such  it  be,  and 
252 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  make  the 
best  of  it." 

Bob  got  up  and  put  on  his  hat. 

"  Perhaps  you're  right,  Dudley,"  he 
said.  "  I'm  going  to  dinner  now, 
anyway." 

But  in  his  heart  he  did  not  think 
Bigelow  was  right.  As  much  as  Bob 
admired  his  friend,  as  much  as  he 
acknowledged  his  superiority,  as  he 
would  have  called  it,  he  was  by  no 
means  blind  to  his  shortcomings.  He 
felt,  instinctively,  that  if  Dudley  had 
to  choose  between  his  loyalty  to 
another  and  the  culture  he  made  his 
god,  the  former  would  be  sacrificed. 

Bob  went  to  dinner,  and  then  after 
an  hour  spent  smoking  and  reading 
the  newspaper  in  a  friend's  room,  he 
strolled  over  to  his  German  quiz  in 
Hopkins.  Not  having  made  any  prep- 
253 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

aration  for  the  quiz,  he  flunked  it  cold, 
the  process  taking  ten  minutes  in  alh 
"What  the  deuce  is  a  man  like  me 
doing  at  college  anyhow?  "  he  thought. 
"  The  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to  clear 
out  of  here  as  soon  as  possible." 

He  spent  another  hour  or  so  loafing 
about  doing  nothing,  and  then  went 
down  to  base  ball  practice  for  the  want 
of  something  better  to  do. 

There  he  met  Caverly  Harper. 
Whatever  else  Caverly  might  neglect, 
he  never  missed  a  practice  when  he 
was  in  town ;  and  almost  every  after- 
noon he  was  to  be  found  on  the  field 
ready  to  criticize  the  team  collectively 
and  individually,  and  the  management 
as  well,  for  the  benefit  of  any  one  who 
would  listen  to  him. 

"  Hello,  Robbie,"  Caverly  called  out. 
"  What  makes  you  so  glum  to-day  ?  " 
254 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

"  I  flunked  my  German  exam,  just 
now,  for  one  thing,"  Bob  answered, 
rather  absent-mindedly. 

Harper  evidently  considered  this  a 
subterfuge,  and  one  that  was  transpar- 
ent enough  to  be  taken  as  a  hint  that 
further  remark  on  the  subject  would 
be  out  of  order,  so  he  turned  the  con- 
versation on  other  topics. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the 
new  freshman  pitcher?"  he  asked. 
"  Hardly  varsity  material  yet,  in  my 
opinion  — doesn't  watch  the  bases  very 
well.  They  never  do,  any  of  them, 
when  they  begin." 

They  stayed  on  the  field  until  prac- 
tice was  over,  and  then  strolled  up- 
town together. 

"  Going  to  the  show  in  Ad  to-night, 
Bob  ?  "  Caverly  asked  on  the  way. 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

25S 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

"English  opera — Robin  Hood,  I 
think.  I  don't  know  the  name  of  the 
troupe.  Bronson  and  Reg.  and  I  are 
going  to  drive  over.  Better  come 
along  and  make  the  fourth." 

Bob  walked  along  for  a  moment  in 
silence. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't,  Cav.,"  he  an- 
swered. "  I've  got  to  go  home  for  a 
day  or  two,  and  I  think  I'll  start  to- 
night on  the  8.19." 

Bob  went  to  his  room  and  began 
putting  some  of  his  things  into  his 
suit  case.  He  decided  not  to  pack  his 
trunk.  He  could  have  it  sent  on  after 
him.  It  might  happen,  of  course  — 
but  it  shouldn't  happen.  He  was  go- 
ing to  clear  out  for  good,  and  he  reso- 
lutely stifled  the  hope  that  anything 
should  make  it  possible  for  him  to 
change  his  mind.  Yet,  the  possibility 
256 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

gave  him  an  excuse  to  let  it  be  under- 
stood that  he  was  only  going  home  to 
spend  Sunday,  and  so  avoid  explana- 
tions and  good-byes.  He  could  come 
back  when  he  had  once  made  the  break 
final  and  see  all  the  fellows. 

It  would  have  been  hard  to  say  what 
brought  him  to  this  decision.  It  was 
a  foolish  one  enough,  for  he  could  just 
as  well  have  waited  a  few  weeks  longer 
until  college  closed,  and  then  gone 
home  with  the  rest,  and  not  returned 
in  the  fall.  Then  he  would  not  have 
felt  like  a  deserter. 

The  truth  was  that  he  was  in  a  mood 
for  heroic  remedies.  He  felt  that  a 
sacrifice  was  needed  on  his  part  to 
atone  for  his  implicit  disloyalty  toward 
the  girl  he  had  promised  to  marry. 
The  remembrance  of  their  silent  mis- 
understandings, too  intangible  to  be 
257 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

set  aright,  try  as  he  would,  returned  to 
him  again  and  again  like  an  accusation 
against  his  honor.  It  was  his  fault, 
not  her's.  She  was  the  same  as  when 
the  romance  of  their  boy  and  girl  love 
was  everthing  to  both  of  them.  It 
was  he  that  had  changed.  College, 
and  the  association  with  his  betters, 
had  made  a  fool  of  him.  He  stuck  to 
this  resolutely.  Yet,  somehow  he 
blamed  her  for  not  having  perceived 
the  change  in  him,  and  resented  it 
openly.  She  lacked  the  fineness  of 
perception  or  the  pride  that  a  girl 
should  have.  It  was  this  conflict  of 
mind,  in  itself  degrading,  that  forced 
him  to  take  some  action  immediately, 
that  would  be  final  and  decisive. 

He  went  to  supper  purposely  late,  so 
as  not  to  meet  the  fellows  at  his  table. 
When  he  got  back,  Bigelow  had  not 
258 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

yet  come  down  from  his  fraternity 
house.  Bob  waited  for  him  awhile, 
and  then,  remembering  that  he  had 
not  called  for  his  mail  since  supper, 
he  started  for  the  Post  Office. 

Under  the  trees  near  West  a  half  a 
dozen  of  his  classmates  were  crowded 
on  a  single  settee,  smoking  and  talk- 
ing. They  called  to  him  to  come  and 
join  them,  but  he  made  some  excuse 
and  went  on.  In  front  of  Morgan  the 
usual  crowd  was  playing  ball,  and  from 
one  of  the  windows  of  the  dormitory 
came  the  familiar  strains  of  an  old  col- 
lege troll,  with  the  tinkling  accompani- 
ment of  the  ever-present  mandolin. 
The  streets  were  full  of  men  in  neg- 
lige, with  tennis  rackets  under  their 
arms,  or  perhaps  strolling  hither  and 
thither  in  sheer  idleness. 

How  foreign  to  him  it  all  felt.  Ex- 
259 


lempora  Mutantur. 

cept  for  the  familiar  faces  everywhere 
it  was  as  if  he  had  come  back  to  the 
place  after  years  of  absence.  Then  it 
struck  Bob  that  it  would  be  harder  to 
leave  college  than  he  had  imagined ; 
and  he  realized  how  much  it  all  meant 
to  him.  What  a  void  there  would  be 
in  his  life  when  the  whole  of  it  should 
be  a  thing  of  the  past. 

Bob  found  a  letter  from  Margery  at 
the  Post  Office.  He  took  it  from  his 
box  with  a  feeling  of  irritation  and 
walked  half  way  back  to  Main  street, 
carrying  it  in  his  hand.  At  last  he 
broke  the  seal  and  began  reading 
indifferently. 

He  was  totally  unprepared  for  what 
he  found  in  the  letter.  Margery  asked 
that  their  engagement  should  be 
broken. 

At  first  he  could  not  suppress  a 
260 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

feeling  of  pleasure,  that  his  release 
gave  him.  But  the  humiliation  of 
the  position  was  not  slow  to  make 
itself  felt.  A  few  words  in  the  let- 
ter cut  him  keenly.  "  I  could  see, 
Bob,"  she  wrote,  "  that  you  did  not 
care  for  me  as  you  thought  you  did 
once.  I  tried  not  to  believe  it  at  first, 
but  I  had  to  in  the  end.  Perhaps  it 
is  natural  that  it  should  happen  so. 
I  do  not  blame  you  for  I  know 
you  were  going  to  act  honorably,  and 
keep  your  promise  as  well  as  you 
could." 

Bob's  self-contempt  was  tinged  a  lit- 
tle, perhaps,  with  a  sort  of  regret.  At 
any  rate  it  was  all  over  now.  He 
might  as  well  stay  at  college  and  make 
the  most  of  his  good  time. 

Just  then  Caverly  Harper  drove  by 
in  a  double  phaeton  with  the  two  other 
261 


Tempora  Mutantur. 

fellows.  He  stopped  his  horses  when 
he  saw  Bob. 

"  We've  got  lots  of  room  for  you," 
he  cried,  "  if  you'll  change  your  mind 
and  go  with  us." 

Bob  hesitated  a  moment.  It  seemed 
as  if,  in  some  way,  the  moment  was 
sacred.  Then  he  laughed  at  himself 
for  the  idea. 

"All  right,"  he  cried,  "I'm  with 
you."  He  stuffed  the  letter  into  his 
pocket  and  climbed  into  the  phaeton, 
wondering  whether  college  had  made 
a  cad  of  him. 


262 


THE  NEXT  MORNING 


263 


The  Next  Morning. 


n^HORNTON  came  out  of  the 
chapel  and  started  toward  Hop- 
kins. There  was  a  weariness  in  his 
body  and  a  sour  taste  in  his  mouth, 
and  the  fresh  beauty  of  the  morning 
hurt  him  like  a  reproach.  Some  one 
called  out  to  him  jokingly,  "  I  hear 
you  were  in  Ad.  last  night,  Bob ! "  and 
he  laughed  back,  as  a  man  laughs 
when  he  must. 

He  had  plenty  of  cuts  left,  for  it  was 
early  in  the  term,  and,  when  half  way 
to  the  recitation,  changed  his  mind  and 
turned  up  Main  street,  without  any 
very  definite  idea  of  where  he  was  go- 
ing. He  wanted  to  get  away  from 
265 


The  Next  Morning. 

everybody  for  awhile  and  think  the 
thing  over. 

Twenty  minutes'  walking  carried  him 
well  out  of  the  town,  almost  to  the  top 
of  Stone  Hill,  and  looking  down  he 
could  see  the  college,  lying  there  in 
the  valley,  shut  in  by  its  circle  of  hills. 
The  fellows  were  passing  in  the  street ; 
he  almost  recognized  some  of  them ; 
the  outlines  of  the  buildings  stood  out 
sharply  against  the  background  of  the 
mountains,  and,  as  he  looked,  the  boom 
of  the  Gym.  clock  came  to  him  through 
the  soft  spring  air.  No  Williams  man 
ever  forgets  that  chime. 

He  half  smiled  as  he  remembered 
how  different  it  had  looked  to  him 
when  he  came  up  from  school  to  take 
his  entrance  exams.  Then  college  was 
a  long-desired  goal,  soon  to  be  at- 
tained ;  an  enchanted  country  inhabi- 
266 


The  Next  Morning. 

ted  by  a  privileged  race  of  beings. 
Even  a  freshman  commanded  respect 
in  those  days,  and  a  Gargoyle  pin  was 
the  summit  of  all  earthly  wishes. 

And  now — but  he  laughed  at  the 
idea  of  comparing  himself  with  that 
green  boy. 

The  four  years  had  done  much  for 
him  ;  they  had  improved  his  manners, 
taught  him  how  to  wear  his  clothes 
as  if  they  belonged  to  him,  and  given 
him  self-confidence  and  poise.  He  had 
made  what  is  called  "  a  success  of  col- 
lege," but  somehow  that  morning  he 
didn't  seem  to  care  much  for  any  of 
the  offices  in  the  formidable  list  that 
followed  his  name  in  the  last  Gul.; 
even  the  Gargoyle  seemed  of  compara- 
tively little  importance,  now  that  he 
was  in  it,  and  about  the  only  thing  he 
really  valued  was  his  class  day  elec- 
267 


The  Next  Morning. 

tion  as  pipe  orator,  because  that 
showed  that  the  fellows  liked  him. 

He  did  not  particularly  regret  the 
events  of  the  night  before ;  he  knew 
that  his  present  gloomy  frame  of  mind 
was  caused  quite  as  much  by  headache 
as  by  the  prickings  of  conscience,  and 
after  all,  he  wasn't  sure  that  he  had 
done  anything  to  be  ashamed  of.  To 
the  undergraduate,  drunkenness,  un- 
less habitual,  is  a  very  venial  sin,  and 
there  really  seemed  no  need  of  being 
so  exceedingly  remorseful  over  what 
he  himself  would  have  readily  con- 
doned in  another. 

What  troubled  him  was,  to  use  a 
colloquialism,  "  the  whole  game  ;  "  he 
was  not  quite  sure  that  his  college 
course  hadn't  been  a  failure  in  spite  of 
its  apparent  success.  He  thought  of 
men  he  knew  in  the  class ;  men  with- 
268 


The  Next  Morning. 

out  either  his  money,  or  associations, 
or  ability  ;  men  to  whom  college  meant 
a  host  of  daily  sacrifices  and  mortifica- 
tions ;  to  whom  life  was  a  serious  mat- 
ter, and  self-improvement  the  end  and 
aim  of  it.  If  he  had  lived  as  they  did 
would  he  not  now  be  infinitely  better 
than  he  was  ? 

But  in  his  heart  he  knew  that  he 
would  not  change  with  one  of  them 
for  worlds.  Men  admired  them  in  a 
way,  but,  after  all,  they  were  pitifully 
ineffective  outside  of  class-room  and 
prayer-meetings.  Granted  that  they 
were  good  Christians,  they  seemed  for 
the  most  part  narrow  and  intolerant ; 
and  if  they  were  excellent  characters, 
they  were  also  exceedingly  tiresome 
companions.  Faugh  !  The  whole  tribe 
disgusted  him,  as  he  thought  of  them, 
with  their  serious  faces  and  their 
269 


The  Next  Morning. 

flabby  muscles.  If  this  were  virtue  he 
wanted  none  of  it. 

Yet  these  men  were,  in  a  way,  his 
superiors  ;  they  were  unselfish,  earnest 
and  sincere ;  he  felt  ashamed  to  think 
how  many  times  he  had  sneered  at 
them.  But  their  life  was  not  his  life, 
and  their  virtue  repelled  him.  He 
had  great  respect  for  their  principles, 
but  he  found  them  uninteresting  as 
friends;  and  their  religion  had  always 
seemed  to  him  just  a  little  bit 
Pharisaical. 

And,  after  all,  were  they  more  virtu- 
ous than  he,  or  only  more  scrupulous? 
He  had  his  principles  as  well  as  they, 
and  kept  them,  for  the  most  part,  quite 
as  carefully.  He  was  loyal  to  his 
friends,  and  told  the  truth  on  all  occa- 
sions. If  he  sometimes  indulged  in  a 
risque  story,  or  drank  a  little  too  much, 
270 


The  Next  Morning. 

as  he  had  done  last  night,  he  was,  on 
the  whole,  neither  foul-minded  nor 
intemperate.  He  was  simply  "  one  of 
the  crowd,"  an  average  college  man, 
with  the  usual  vices  and  virtues,  min- 
gled in  about  the  usual  proportions. 

No,  he  was  better  than  that.  He 
did  not  do  many  things  that  most  peo- 
ple took  as  a  matter  of  course.  There 
were  stories  he  would  not  tell,  and 
jokes  that  he  would  not  laugh  at,  and 
more  than  once  he  had  risked  unpopu- 
larity when  some  one  had  spoken  slight- 
ingly of  a  girl  in  a  room  full  of  men. 

But  he  felt  that  he  had  lost  some- 
thing in  those  four  years,  or  rather 
that  it  had  been  taken  away  from  him. 
It  is  impossible  for  a  man  to  go  through 
college  without  getting,  as  people  say, 
"  a  knowledge  of  the  world,"  which 

phrase  also  includes  a  knowledge  of 
271 


The  Next  Morning. 

the  flesh  and  the  devil ;  even  if  we  fight 
against  evil  the  contact  soils  us,  and 
Thornton  had  not  always  fought. 

He  had  come  to  college  straight 
from  home,  younger  in  many  ways 
than  most  of  the  men  in  his  class.  His 
virtue  was  the  virtue  that  his  mother 
had  taught  him  as  a  little  boy,  and 
though  he  was  not  prudish,  nor  a  fool, 
he  was  innocent  and  pure.  It  hurt 
him  to  think  how  he  had  changed  since 
then  ;  how,  one  by  one,  he  had  lost  his 
ideals  and  abandoned  his  principles, 
until  now  he  had  scarcely  anything 
left  except  his  honesty  and  his  chivalry. 

Yet  he  knew  that  he  had  fared  better 
than  many,  and  that  his  former  inno- 
cence was  founded  quite  as  much  upon 
ignorance  as  upon  virtue.  It  had  been 
all  very  well  for  the  boy,  but  it  would 
have  looked  a  little  out  of  place  in  the 
272 


The  Next  Morning. 

man  ;  one  cannot  be  too  particular  if 
one  wishes  to  be  effective. 

And  he  was  effective.  He  knew  it 
and  rejoiced  in  the  thought.  He  was 
a  force  in  college ;  his  opinion  was 
sought  and  his  example  followed,  and 
probably  he  did  quite  as  much  good 
as  the  most  pious  Y.  M.  C.  A.  man 
with  all  his  self-conscious  religion. 
But  he  flushed  a  little  when  he 
thought  how  he  must  have  appeared 
last  night,  with  his  stained,  disordered 
clothes,  and  his  foolish,  maudlin  con- 
versation. No,  he  had  wasted  his 
time  and  misused  his  opportunities; 
if  he  was  not  positively  bad,  he  was 
certainly  weak,  and  weakness  was 
worse  than  vice. 

He  thought  of  Jack  Thompson  and 
felt  ashamed  of  himself.  Jack  was  in 
the  Gargoyle,  too,  and  had  played  foot 
273 


The  Next  Morning. 

ball  four  years,  and  won  the  Clark 
scholarship  besides.  No  one  ever 
called  him  a  Y.  M.  C.  A.  shark,  and 
no  one  ever  told  a  doubtful  story 
when  he  was  in  the  room. 

Jack  led  the  class  prayer-meetings 
and  the  cheering  at  Amherst  with 
equal  enthusiasm.  He  was  going  to 
be  a  medical  missionary  in  some  out 
of  the  way  place  with  a  bloodthirsty 
population  and  an  unhealthy  climate. 
Thornton  admired  a  man  like  that 
thoroughly;  he  wished  he  knew  him 
better,  and  it  surprised  him  a  little 
that,  in  spite  of  his  admiration,  he  had 
never  made  any  serious  attempt  to 
become  intimate  with  Jack  Thompson. 
Perhaps  if  he  had 

"Shay,  old  feller,  isn't  thish  the 
way  ter  Williamstown?" 

He  looked  up  quickly.  The  speaker 
274 


The  Next  Morning. 

was  a  man  of  about  thirty,  dressed  in 
overalls  and  a  loose  flannel  shirt,  and 
evidently  very,  very  drunk.  Thorn- 
ton smiled  a  little. 

"  I  suppose  I  should  take  you  for  a 
moral  lesson,  my  friend,"  he  said,  half 
aloud,  "  but  why  did  you  select  this 
unusually  early  hour  for  your  little 
indulgences  ?  " 

"  Wha'sh  that?"  said  the  individual, 
thickly ;  "  isn't  thish  the  way  ter 
Williamstown  ?  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  answered 
Thornton,  "  I  was  merely  thinking 
aloud ;  most  impolite  of  me,  I  am 
sure.  Yes,  this  is  the  way  to 
Williamstown." 

"  There  !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  tri- 
umphantly, "  I  knew  it  were  !  Some 
damn  fool  back  on  the  road  told  me 
it  weren't,  but  I  knew  it  were  ;  yes," 
275 


The  Next  Morning. 

he  repeated,  after  a  long  and  thought- 
ful pause,  "  I  knew  it  were." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  replied  Thornton, 
gravely,  "you  are  indeed  fortunate. 
After  having  spent  three  hours  a 
week  for  many  months  in  discussing 
the  question,  '  What  is  it  to  know  ? '  I 
am  rejoiced  to  find  one  who  has  solved 
the  problem.  Let  me  congratulate 
you." 

"  Tha'sh  true,"  said  he  of  the  over- 
alls, obscurely,  but  heartily,  "  tha'sh 
true.  Shay,"  he  continued,  confiden- 
tially, "  ye'r  an  awful  nice  feller." 

"Thank  you,"  answered  Thornton. 

"  Yesh  ye  are,"  said  the  man,  com- 
ing nearer,  "  and  I'm  goin'  ter  stay 
and  talk  ter-ye-while,"  and  he  lurched 
down  on  the  grass  and  threw  one  arm 
around  the  other's  neck. 

"  Really,"  said  Thornton,  a  little 
276 


The  Next  Morning. 

startled,  "  this  affection  is  very  touch- 
ing, but  it  would  be  rather  embarrass- 
ing if  any  one  should  see  us,  and  I 
really  think  I'll  have  to  be  walking 
on." 

"  Tha'sh  right,"  answered  the  man, 
staggering  to  his  feet,  "  we'll  both  go 
down  tergether  and  tell  the  sup'rin- 
tendent  how  it  was." 

Here  was  a  new  development ;  evi- 
dently he  was  not  going  home.  Thorn- 
ton felt  curious.  "  What  superintend- 
ent do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  the  one  at  the  Bleachery," 
replied  the  man,  indignantly;  "what 
one  did  ye  think  I  meant?  Why,  I 
work  down  there,  didn't  ye  know  that  ? 
I  thought  ye  was  a  nice  feller !  " 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  shamefully  igno- 
rant," answered  Thornton. 

"  Well,"  said  the  man,  "  I'll  tell  ye 

277 


The  Next  Morning. 

'bout  it.  Ye  see,  the  sup'rintendent, 
he  sez  ter  me  last  month,  '  Doyle,' 
sez  he,  tha'sh  me,  'if  ye  come  here 
drunk  again  I'll  discharge  ye.'  'All 
right,'  sez  I,  '  wait  till  I  do  ; '  and  I  ain't 
been  drunk  since,  and  I  ain't  goin'  ter 
be ;  and  I'm  goin'  right  down  there 
now,  and  if  the  sup'rintendent  starts 
ter  shay  an'thing,  do  ye  know  what 
I'm  goin'  ter  do?"  He  paused  and 
sunk  his  voice  into  a  hoarse  whisper ; 
"  I'm  goin'  ter  knock  him  down  ;  "  he 
finished  impressively. 

Thornton  laughed,  and  started  on 
up  the  road,  then  changed  his  mind 
and  came  back  again.  "  Look  here  !  " 
he  said,  "  don't  you  want  to  take  a 
walk  with  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  the  other,  suspi- 
ciously ;  "  No,  ye  think  I'm  drunk 

and  I  ain't ;  and  ye  ain't  no  business 
278 


The  Next  Morning. 

to  think  I'm  drunk  when  I  ain't  ;  I'm 
goin'  ter  see  the  sup'rintendent." 

"  Of  course  you  are,"  said  Thornton, 
soothingly,  "  we'll  go  together."  He 
locked  arms  with  him,  and,  by  means 
of  persistent  pulling  and  constant  talk- 
ing, finally  got  him  to  come  with  him 
with  no  more  active  opposition  than 
an  occasional  "  Shay,  w'ere  we  goin' 
ter  ? "  which  he  answered  by  a  con- 
fident "That's  all  right,  we're  going 
to  see  the  superintendent." 

Thornton  led  his  charge  across  the 
fields,  having  considerable  trouble  with 
the  fences,  and  at  last  arrived  at  the 
brook  that  runs  to  the  west  of  Stone 
Hill.  He  walked  along  the  bank  until 
they  came  to  a  pretty  deep  place,  and 
then  picked  the  man  bodily  off  his 
feet,  and,  without  further  ceremony, 
tumbled  him  in.  It  was  pretty  heroic 
279 


The  Next  Morning. 

treatment,  for  the  water  was  almost 
ice  cold,  but  it  was  the  only  quick  and 
sure  method  available  of  sobering  him, 
and  Thornton  resolved  to  risk  the 
chance  of  giving  him  pneumonia. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  splashing 
and  sputtering,  considerable  bad  lan- 
guage, and  a  very  wet  and  dazed  look 
ing  man  crawled  out  of  the  brook  and 
stared  round  about  him  confusedly. 

Thornton  took  him  by  the  shoulder. 
"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "pull  yourself 
together  and  listen  to  me.  May  be 
you  don't  remember  meeting  me  up 
on  the  road  and  talking  nonsense 
about  assaulting  people.  Listen,"  he 
repeated,  roughly,  "you  were  drunk. 
Do  you  understand  ?  Dead,  rotten, 
foolish  drunk,  and  you  were  going 
down  to  the  Bleachery  to  lick  the  su- 
perintendent. You'd  have  been  dis- 
280 


The  Next  Morning. 

charged  if  I  hadn't  brought  you  here 
and  thrown  you  into  the  brook  to 
sober  you  up  ?  Can  you  hear  me  ? 
To  sober  you  up;  "  and  he  assisted  the 
sobering  process  by  shaking  the  man 
until  his  teeth  rattled  like  castanets, 
and  he  raised  his  hand  protestingly. 

"  Quit,"  he  said,  weakly,  "  quit,  will 
ye;  I'm  not  drunk  now." 

Thornton  let  go  of  him  and  he  sank 
limply  down  on  the  grass  and  stayed 
there,  half  sitting  and  half  lying  down, 
while  his  scattered  faculties  came  back 
to  him.  Finally,  he  got  up  on  his  feet 
and  pushed  the  wet  hair  uncertainly 
from  his  face. 

"  Drunk,  was  I  ? "  said  he,  slowly. 
"  Well,  I  guess  I  was.  What  did  I  say 
ter  ye,  anyway  ?" 

Thornton  told  him  again,  and  the 
man  looked  at  him  with  a  gradu- 
281 


The  Next  Morning. 

ally  growing  comprehension  of  the 
situation. 

"  So  I  was  goin'  ter  lick  the  superin- 
tendent?" he  asked,  at  length,  "and 
ye  kept  me  from  gettin'  fired.  What 
a  damn  fool  I  was."  He  stopped  a  min- 
ute ;  then  his  face  lighted  up  with  a 
new  idea,  and  he  held  out  his  hand. 
"  Shake,"  he  said,  awkwardly. 

"  O,  that's  all  right,"  said  Thornton, 
shaking  hands  with  him  ;  "  now,  you'd 
better  get  home  as  fast  as  you  can. 
You  don't  want  to  have  a  chill,  you 
know." 

"  That's  so,"  he  answered.  "  Well, 
good  day  to  ye,  and  thank  ye  again." 
He  turned  to  go  and  then  faced  around 
suddenly.  "  Say,"  he  exclaimed,  "  ye'r 
a  damn  good  feller." 

"  Never  mind  that  now,"  said  Thorn- 
ton, "  run  home,  or  you'll  catch  cold." 
282 


The  Next  Morning. 

But  the  man  was  thinking  of  some- 
thing else. 

"Yes,"  he  repeated,  "ye'r  a  damn 
good  feller ;  ye  didn't  try  any 
preachin',  and  ye  acted  like  ye  knew 
just  how  I  was  feelin'  and  wasn't  dis- 
gusted, ner  helpin'  me  becuz  ye 
thought  ye  ought  ter.  Say,"  he  con- 
tinued, almost  timidly,  "  'scuse  me  fer 
askin'  it,  but  ye  seem  different  from 
most  of  'em.  Beg  yer  pardin,  but  ain't 
ye  been  drunk  yerself  ?" 

Thornton  winced.  "Yes,"  he  an- 
swered, slowly,  "  yes,  I've  been  drunk 
myself." 


283 


IN  HONOR  OF  THE  SAINT 


285 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 


"  '  But  what  good  came  of  it  at  last?' 

Quoth  little  Peterkin, 
'Why,  that  I  cannot  tell,'  said  he, 
'  But  'twas  a  famous  victory.'  " 

TT  all  happened  because  the  fresh- 
man class  was  so  very  fresh.  Of 
course  all  freshman  classes  are  fresh, 
otherwise  what  fun  would  there  be  for 
the  sophomores  fall  term;  but  that 
year  it  was  unusually  so.  Some  even 
said  that  it  was  the  freshest  class  that 
ever  entered  college,  and  one  must 
admit  there  was  some  ground  for  the 
statement.  A  few  men  there  were,  of 
a  certainty,  in  it,  whose  assurance  was 
apparently  unbounded.  Take  Clarence 
287 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

Raeburn,  for  instance,  who  arrived  in 
town,  clad  in  a  pink  and  green  plaid 
golf  suit,  with  a  bundle  of  canes  in  one 
hand  and  a  silk  hat  case  in  the  other, 
and  succeeded  during  the  first  week  in 
making  himself  so  much  at  home  that 
he  called  half  the  upper  classmen  by 
their  Christian  names. 

Then  there  was  Fitch,  who  compla- 
cently congratulated  Mrs.  Harding,  at 
the  President's  reception,  on  the  good 
work  her  husband,  Prof.  Harding,  was 
doing  in  his  freshman  French  course, — 
the  President's  reception  is  a  famous 
place  for  mauvais  mots;  and  Pritchard, 
who  made  the  well-intended  but  inef- 
fectual attempt  to  lead  the  cheering  at 
the  first  foot  ball  game  on  Weston 
Field ;  not  to  mention  Kendall,  who 
attended  the  dance  at  the  Greylock, 
and  little  Witherbee,  with  his  silly 
288 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

notions  about  the  right  of  a  free-born 
man,  even  if  he  be  a  freshman,  to  do 
what  he  pleases.  These  are  a  few 
shining  examples,  but  there  were  many 
more  like  them. 

Indeed,  Clyde  Hamilton  himself 
was  decidedly  fresh,  and  to  this 
quality  he  owed  beyond  question 
something  of  the  popularity  which 
had  secured  him  his  election  as 
speaker  for  the  freshmen  in  the  Shirt 
Tail  parade  celebration;  and  in  conse- 
quence the  misfortunes  which  befell 
him  on  that  memorable  day. 

Clyde,  from  the  time  he  entered  col- 
lege, had  taken  a  prominent  position 
among  the  freshmen,  a  position  which 
was  strengthened,  rather  than  the  re- 
verse, by  the  attention,  not  entirely 
flattering,  which  he  received  from  the 
classes  above  his  own.  As  it  hap- 
289 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

pened,  he  was  one  of  the  trio  at  the 
sophomore-freshman  base  ball  game 
who  were  made  to  stand  on  the  scor- 
er's table  and  sing  "  Three  Little 
Maids  from  School "  before  a  coach 
load  of  visitors  from  out  of  town.  But 
considerably  before  this  the  sopho- 
mores had  marked  his  lack  of  proper 
freshman-like  humility  of  manner,  and 
had  already  made  one  or  two  friendly 
calls  upon  him  in  his  room  in  Morgan, 
at  which  the  host  was  asked  repeat- 
edly to  give  evidence  of  his  vocal  and 
declamatory  powers.  During  these 
little  informal  at  homes  Clyde  was 
always  very  affable  and  obliging,  com- 
plying gracefully  to  the  requests  of 
his  guests, —  and  afterward  was  as  im- 
perturbably  fresh  as  ever. 

All   this    gained    him   considerable 
notice  among  his  classmates,  and  when 
290 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

the  time  came  to  elect  the  St.  Patrick's 
Day  orator,  Clyde  was  chosen  to  the 
office  unanimously  and  with  great 
enthusiasm. 

Every  one  said  the  parade  that  year 
would  be  a  great  success  on  account 
of  the  warmth  of  feeling  between  the 
lower  classes ;  or  at  least  that  there 
would  be  plenty  of  fun  of  one  sort  or 
other,  for  the  sophomores  had  vowed, 
that,  as  far  as  the  procession  itself  was 
concerned,  it  should  be  a  most  dismal 
failure  if  there  was  muscle  enough  in 
the  sophomore  class  to  break  it  up. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  freshmen,  who 
were  spending  no  end  of  time  and 
money  on  fireworks  and  transparen- 
cies and  so  forth,  resolved  to  do  their 
best  to  give  their  opponents  a  warm 
reception  if  they  should  make  any 
such  attempt ;  and  as  the  upper  class- 
291 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

men  were  supposed  to  be  on  the  side 
of  peace,  they  hoped  to  get  down  to 
the  campus  in  good  order. 

The  first  skirmish  occurred  on  the 
eve  of  St.  Patrick's  Day,  and  its  ter- 
mination greatly  elated  the  freshmen. 
The  sophs,  of  course,  had  been  on  the 
lookout  for  the  freshman  canes  for 
several  days,  and  when  some  one  dis- 
covered that  a  box  had  come  to  the 
express  office  that  morning  from  Troy, 
addressed  to  the  chairman  of  the  cane 
committee,  they  decided  at  once  to 
capture  it  at  any  cost.  During  the 
whole  day  some  of  them  hung  about 
the  express  office,  but  no  one  appeared 
to  claim  the  box.  At  last,  however,  a 
little  after  six  o'clock,  twelve  or  fifteen 
of  the  biggest  men  in  the  freshmen 
class  collected  at  the  office,  got  out  the 
box  and  carried  it  up  the  hill  toward 
292 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

the  Labs.,  all  bunched  together  ready 
to  repel  any  attack. 

Fred  Hillis,  the  football  player,  was 
on  guard  for  the  sophomores. 

"  Canes  !  Canes  !  Freshman  canes," 
he  shouted,  and  in  a  moment  there 
were  thirty  or  forty  sophs  pushing 
and  struggling  to  wrest  the  box  away 
from  the  freshmen.  Both  sides  fought 
valiantly,  and  for  a  time  neither  got 
the  advantage.  But  finally  a  sopho- 
more jumped  into  the  bunch  of  fresh- 
men, and  landing  on  the  box,  knocked 
it  out  of  their  hands.  The  fresh- 
men tried  to  pick  it  up  again,  but 
their  adversaries  were  getting  the 
advantage. 

"  Break  it  open,"  shouted  one  of  the 

sophs.     Some  one  gave  it  a  great  kick 

and    the    top    was   broken   in.     In   a 

moment  the  sophomores  had  torn  off 

293 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

the  boards.  Within  they  found  stones 
and  shavings  instead  of  the  canes. 

"  Rubber,  rubber,"  shouted  the 
freshmen,  and  took  to  their  heels. 

One  can  imagine  this  did  not  serve 
to  cool  the  feeling  between  the  two 
classes.  Neither  did  the  jeering  of  the 
freshmen  all  that  evening;  nor  the 
sheet  with  the  mystic  words  "  Rubber 
Neck,"  and  the  numerals  of  the  sopho- 
more class  painted  upon  it,  which  was 
seen  nailed  on  the  cupola  of  West  the 
next  morning. 

But  the  sophomores  did  not  allow 
their  chagrin  to  show  itself  outwardly. 
During  the  day  all  was  quiet  with  the 
calm  that  comes  before  the  storm,  for 
every  one  was  predicting  excitement 
when  evening  should  come.  The  lead- 
ing sophomores  cut  recitations  and 
stood  about  vaguely  in  groups,  saying 
294 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

little,  but  looking  very  important  and 
ominous. 

However,  there  were  some  who 
were  not  to  be  satisfied  by  promising 
themselves  the  pleasure  of  smashing 
transparencies  and  rolling  freshmen  in 
the  mud,  if  they  could,  that  evening. 
They  planned  a  sweeter  and  a  surer 
revenge.  Fred  Hillis  was  at  the  bot- 
tom of  it. 

"  We'll  fix  that  damn  freshman,"  he 
exclaimed  to  the  two  or  three  chosen 
conspirators.  "  I'll  bet  his  nerve  will 
wilt  this  time." 

One  of  them  roomed  in  the  west 
entry  of  Morgan,  on  the  ground  floor, 
and  they  all  waited  there  during  the 
whole  afternoon,  with  the  door  open  a 
crack  and  somebody  on  guard. 

At  six  o'clock  Clyde  Hamilton,  who 
lived  on  the  floor  above,  came  down 
295 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

to  go  to  supper.  Just  as  he  got  to  the 
bottom  of  the  stairs  four  or  five  men 
rushed  out  on  him.  Hamilton  was  a 
good-sized  fellow,  but  his  struggles 
were  useless,  and,  in  a  moment,  before 
he  could  recognize  his  assailants,  he 
was  blindfolded,  dragged  a  little  way 
and  bound  down  on  a  bed,  gagged 
with  a  handkerchief. 

"  There,  think  over  your  sins,  fresh- 
man," some  one  said,  and  then  they 
all  went  out  laughing,  and  Clyde  heard 
the  door  locked  after  them. 

Clyde,  being  a  practical  fellow,  did 
not  employ  himself  as  the  sophomore 
suggested,  but  began  trying  to  get 
free.  It  was  useless.  He  was  bound 
hand  and  foot,  and,  wriggle  and  squirm 
as  he  would,  there  was  no  escape. 

Pretty  soon  his  captors  returned, 
bringing  some  other  fellows  with  them. 
296 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

The  bedroom  door  was  opened,  and 
he  had  the  pleasant  consciousness 
that  he  was  being  shown  to  the 
newcomers. 

"  I  fear  Clyde's  mellifluous  voice 
will  not  be  heard  on  the  campus  to- 
night," some  one  remarked  jocosely. 

"  I  fear  not ;  but  how  quiet  he 
lies,"  said  another ;  "  I  believe  he's 
asleep." 

"  Sleep  while  you  can,  little  one," 
cried  a  third;  "good  friends  watch 
over  thee." 

This  was  decidedly  unpleasant  for 
Clyde,  who  felt  himself  redden  hotly. 
He  recognized  some  of  the  voices,  and 
made  one  or  two  very  foolish  vows 
which  circumstances,  fortunately,  ab- 
solved him  from  keeping. 

Presently  the  bedroom  door  was 
closed,  and  he  heard  the  crowd  out  in 
297 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

the  study  discussing  plans  for  the  at- 
tack on  the  parade. 

"Well  I'm  going  to  my  room  and 
put  on  a  sweater,"  some  one  said  after 
a  while,  and  then  he  knew  that  the  fun 
was  about  to  begin. 

The  party  dropped  off  one  by  one, 
and  at  last  the  door  was  closed  and 
locked  again.  Clyde  heard  the  fellows 
all  coming  down  stairs,  laughing  and 
talking.  Some  of  them  he  recognized 
as  his  classmates.  He  struggled  again 
to  loosen  his  bonds  but  without  result. 

It  was  hard  luck  to  have  to  lie  there 
and  let  the  show  go  on  without  him, 
and  especially  hard,  as  Clyde  had  been 
planning  all  along  to  make  the  hit  of 
the  evening.  How  those  sophs  would 
jolly  him  about  it,  and  the  Gul.  too. 
He  thought  of  the  speech  he  had  pre- 
pared with  such  an  expenditure  of 
298 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

time  and  energy.  Wasn't  he  going 
to  roast  those  sophs,  though?  Not 
openly,  of  course,  but  covertly,  with 
delicate  irony,  and  biting  innuendo, 
cleverly  concealed  under  the  modest 
language  which  it  beseems  a  freshman 
to  use.  There  were  some  in  the  upper 
classes  also  whom  he  would  score, 
still  more  artfully.  Yes,  certainly  his 
speech  would  have  been  the  feature  of 
the  celebration. 

By  this  time  Morgan  was  empty  of 
its  occupants  and  silent  as  the  tomb. 
Clyde  listened  an  intolerable  time 
without  hearing  any  noise.  Then  very 
faintly  came  the  sound  of  music.  The 
procession  was  forming  and  he  was 
not  there. 

Of  course  his  absence  had  been  dis- 
covered by  this  time,  and  great  had 
been  the  lamentation  among  the  fresh- 
299 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

men.  Every  one  asked  every  one  else 
who  had  seen  him  last,  but  nothing 
definite  could  be  learned.  The  sophs 
had  abducted  him,  that  was  sure ;  but 
it  was  too  late  to  make  any  search, 
and  some  one  else  had  to  be  chosen 
to  fill  his  place.  This  made  a  great 
deal  of  confusion.  No  one  wanted 
the  office  under  the  circumstances, 
and  everybody  had  some  one  else  who 
was  particularly  fitted  for  it. 

Caverly  Harper,  who  was  on  the 
committee  of  arrangements  from  the 
upper  classes,  finally  settled  the  mat- 
ter by  pulling  Raeburn  out  of  the 
anxious,  white-robed  crowd. 

"You'll  do,"  he  cried.  "You've 
got  crust  enough  for  anything.  Pull 
off  your  shirt,"  and  he  forthwith  lifted 
the  unwilling  orator-to-be  into  the 
wagon. 

300 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

By  this  time  little  freshman  Pin- 
gree  was  also  divested  of  his  white  gar- 
ment and  was  running  up  Main  street 
as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him. 
Little  Pingree,  despite  his  simplicity 
of  manner,  had  that  very  rare  faculty, 
the  ability  of  putting  two  and  two  to- 
gether in  a  hurry.  If  the  sophs  have 
captured  Hamilton,  he  thought,  they 
have  probably  locked  him  up  in  one  of 
their  rooms  and  left  him  to  go  out  and 
see  the  parade.  Pingree  was  of  a 
poetic  and  imaginative  nature,  and  he 
recollected  very  vividly  of  reading  in  a 
Sunday  school  book,  a  long  time  ago, 
how  Blondel  went  around  through 
Germany,  singing  under  castle  walls, 
until  at  last  he  discovered  where 
his  royal  pupil  was  immured.  Per- 
haps Hamilton  might  yet  make  his 
speech  and  throw  the  enemy  into  con- 
301 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

fusion.  At  any  rate  it  was  worth 
while  making  the  attempt.  He  de- 
cided to  try  Morgan  first.  That  was 
the  most  likely  place. 

To  avoid  the  sophomores,  he  had  to 
go  away  back  of  Griffin  and  around  by 
the  Hash  House  and  Hopkins.  He 
began  in  Hell's  Entry,  giving  his  class 
cheer  distinctly,  but  softly,  on  each 
landing.  There  was  no  response.  Ap- 
parently the  rooms  were  empty.  He 
went  on  to  the  next  staircase,  and 
then  to  the  next,  but  still  no  answer 
came.  He  had  thrown  off  all  fear 
now  and  was  shouting  at  the  top  of 
his  voice.  By  the  time  he  had  reached 
the  west  entry  he  was  beginning  to  be 
discouraged.  On  the  ground  floor  he 
yelled  twice  and  then  cried,  "  Oh,  Ham- 
ilton ! "  but  without  result.  Then, 
when  he  was  half  way  up  the  first 
302 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

flight,  he  heard  a  muffled  cry  from  one 
of  the  rooms. 

"Let  me  out  for  Heaven's  sake," 
some  one  said. 

"  Is  that  you,  Hamilton  ?  "  Pingree 
exclaimed,  almost  tumbling  down  stairs 
in  his  excitement. 

"Yes,  it  is;  smash  the  door  in  and 
untie  me." 

Pingree  threw  himself  against  the 
door,  but  it  did  not  give. 

"  I'll  go  outside,  and  come  in  through 
the  window,"  he  said  breathlessly,  after 
three  or  four  more  futile  attempts. 

The  streets  were  crowded  now  and 
it  was  a  risky  business,  but  no  one  ap- 
parently heard  the  sound  of  the  break- 
ing glass,  and  in  a  moment  Pingree  had 
unfastened  the  latch,  pulled  up  the 
sash  and  climbed  in. 

"They  had  me  gagged,"  Hamilton 
303 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

explained,  "but  when  I  heard  you 
shout  I  managed  to  get  the  handker- 
chief out  of  my  mouth." 

"  Oh,  those  Cobleighs,"  sighed  Pin- 
gree,  plaintively,  working  away  at  the 
knots ;  "  I  knew  they  had  got  a  hold 
of  you." 

In  a  moment  Hamilton  was  freed. 
"  The  procession  will  be  down  the  street 
in  a  moment,"  Pingree  explained ;  "  you 
can  go  out  and  get  into  the  wagon  as  it 
comes  along," 

"  No,"  said  Clyde,  thoughtfully ;  "  we 
may  as  well  do  the  thing  up  dramati- 
cally. We'll  give  the  sophs  a  little 
surprise  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  Be- 
sides, I've  not  had  any  supper,  and 
I'm  hungry.  This  is  Ted's  room,  and 
I  know  the  ropes  here,"  he  added, 
lighting  a  match  and  making  for  the 
closet. 

304 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

He  returned  in  a  moment  with  a  box 
of  crackers.  After  finishing  with  these 
he  groped  about  and  finally  found  a 
pipe  and  filled  it,  stretching  himself 
out  comfortably  on  the  divan.  Clyde 
liked  to  do  things  of  this  sort,  espe- 
cially when  there  was  somebody  like 
Pingree  around  to  look  on  in  admira- 
tion. It  was  almost  as  good  as  being 
one  of  Mr.  Anthony  Hope's  characters. 

"  You  go  on,  old  man,  if  you  want 
to,"  he  said  to  Pingree,  after  a  few 
puffs,  "and  see  the  sport.  I'll  be  there 
all  in  good  time." 

But,  of  course,  Pingree  would  hear 
of  no  such  thing,  and  so  the  two  sat 
there  in  the  dark  talking  in  low  voices. 

Meanwhile  the  parade  had  formed 

down    by  the   Methodist  church,  and 

proceeded    up     Main     street    to    the 

strains  of  "  Come  fill  your  glasses  up," 

3°5 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

rendered  in  an  uncertain  manner  by 
the  Williamstown  band,  which  headed 
the  procession.  Next  to  the  band 
came  the  wagon  containing  the  com- 
mittee of  upper  classmen  and  the 
three  speakers  of  the  evening.  Then 
two  by  two,  in  a  long  column,  marched 
the  freshmen,  all  clad  in  their  white 
attire  and  carrying  torches  and  Roman 
candles.  Here  and  there  along  the 
line  were  large  muslin  transparencies 
uplifted  on  poles,  on  which  were 
chronicled  in  terse  and  telling  phrases 
such  events  in  the  history  of  sopho- 
more-freshmen interrelations  as  the 
freshmen  desired  to  blazon  before  the 
world.  The  largest  and  most  con- 
spicuous bore  a  rough  representation 
of  a  box,  and  under  it  the  single 
word  "Rubber"  in  gigantic  charac- 
ters. Around  these  transparencies  the 
306 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

strongest  men  in  the  class  were  placed, 
for  they  were  sure  to  be  points  of 
attack.  Up  through  the  mud  they 
splashed,  while  along  beside  them  on 
the  sidewalks  and  grass  plots  walked  the 
upper  classmen,  to  see  the  fun  and  act 
as  a  guard  against  sophomore  attack. 

The  streets  were  crowded.  Small 
boys,  gray-whiskered  farmers  and 
factory  hands  from  North  Adams 
and  Blackinton  jostled  each  other 
noisily  but  good  naturedly.  The 
younger  element  of  the  faculty  was 
also  well  represented. 

Just  at  the  top  of  Consumption 
Hill,  around  the  Soldiers'  Monument, 
the  scene  of  many  a  hard-contested 
rush  in  the  good  old  days  of  monu- 
ment rushing,  were  congregated  the 
sophomores,  eager  and  determined. 
When  the  first  transparency  appeared 
3°7 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

over  the  brow  of  the  hill  they  gave  a 
great  shout  and  rushed  at  it  in  a  body. 
The  freshmen  stood  their  ground  vali- 
antly, and  the  juniors  and  seniors  ran 
to  their  aid,  only  too  glad  to  taste 
again  the  joys  of  their  underclass- 
man days.  But  the  sophomores  were 
bunched  and  not  to  be  resisted.  The 
white  line  wavered,  then  broke ;  white 
and  black  figures  rolled  in  the  mud 
together,  torches  were  extinguished, 
and  Roman  candles  discharged  them- 
selves in  the  wildest  riot.  In  a 
moment,  more  of  the  upper  classmen 
arrived  at  the  theatre  of  war,  and  the 
sophomores  were  forced  back  and 
the  line  of  march  reformed.  But  of 
the  transparency  only  a  sad  wreck 
remained. 

Again  and  again  the  same  sort  of 
attack  was  made,  always  with  the  re- 
308 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

suit  of  smashing  transparencies  and 
temporarily  throwing  into  confusion 
the  paraders,  who,  however,  formed 
themselves  into  line  again  and  pro- 
ceeded on  their  march  to  the  tune  of 
the  patient  band,  muddy  and  bedrag- 
gled but  persistent. 

Up  Main  street  they  went,  around 
the  park  and  then  down  to  the  Gym. 
Here  ranks  were  broken  and  a  dis- 
ordered rush  of  all  classes  for  the  old 
campus  ensued.  In  the  middle  of  the 
field  the  great  heap  of  boxes  and  bar- 
rels was  beginning  to  blaze.  The 
band  arrived  playing  a  fast  and  furious 
two  step,  and  in  a  moment  the  fresh- 
men were  circling  around  the  fire 
hand  in  hand.  The  flames  leaped 
high  into  the  sky,  revealing  in  a  ruddy 
light  the  mass  of  faces  up  on  the 
slopes  to  the  north  and  east,  which, 
3°9 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

with  the  hundred  white-clad,  dancing 
figures  below  made  the  place  look  like 
the  pit  of  Malebolge  in  the  Inferno. 

The  freshmen  had  hardly  formed 
their  circle  when  the  rush  for  the 
shirts  began.  Almost  instantly  every 
freshman  was  divested  of  his  garment 
by  some  eager  sophomore.  But  that 
did  not  end  the  matter.  Every  one 
now  tried  to  get  and  keep  as  many 
torn  shreds  of  the  shirts  as  he  could. 
The  struggle  lasted  for  five  minutes 
and  was  carried  on  on  all  parts  of  the 
field.  Generally  it  was  between  a  sin- 
gle sophomore  and  freshman,  but 
sometimes  there  would  be  a  half  a 
dozen  contestants  pulling  and  strain- 
ing at  one  little  bit  of  muddy  cloth. 
Finally  time  was  called,  the  music  was 
hushed,  and  every  one  crowded  about 
the  wagon  to  hear  the  speeches. 
310 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

Shirt  Tail  Parade  oratory  does  not 
have  to  be  of  a  polished,  Ciceronian 
sort.  Provided  it  is  fairly  witty  and 
personal,  nothing  further  is  required. 
In  these  respects  Thornton's  speech 
was  a  success.  He  touched  lightly 
upon  the  peculiarities  of  some  of  the 
sophomores,  gave  some  fatherly  ad- 
vice to  the  freshmen,  indulged  in  a 
few  sarcasms  at  the  expense  of  the 
faculty, —  whose  weaknesses  are  fortu- 
nately always  with  us  for  the  purpose 
of  ridicule  —  and  then,  introducing  the 
speaker  for  the  sophomore  class,  sat 
down  amid  the  usual  applause. 

Ned  Allerton  then  arose  from  his 
seat  in  the  wagon.  "  Ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen and  freshmen,"  he  began,  "  I 
confess  that  I  accepted  my  election  to 
this  office  with  considerable  hesitation. 
The  prospect  of  riding  in  the  same 
3" 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

wagon  with  such  a  distinguished  per- 
son as  Mr.  Clyde  Hamilton  was,  of  itself, 
enough  to  disconcert  a  man  far  more 
self-possessed  than  I.  But,  besides 
that,  I  knew  that  his  powers  of  ora- 
tory would  put  mine  completely  in  the 
shade,  and  I  am  sure  that  those  of  my 
class  who  have  heard  Mr.  Hamilton 
speak  on  less  public  occasions  than 
this,  will  bear  me  out  in  the  statement. 
But  I  have  been  informed  that,  for  some 
unaccountable  reason,  probably  best 
known  to  himself,  Mr.  Hamilton  has 
decided  not  to  address  you  to-night; 
and  while  I  grieve  that  we  are  not  to 
be  favored  with  an  exhibition  of  such 
eloquence  as  he  would  undoubtedly 
give  us,  I  cannot  but  feel  relieved,  for 
my  own  sake,  and  consequently  ap- 
proach my  task  with  less  embarrass- 
ment." The  speaker  paused  amid  the 
312 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

cheering  of  his  classmates,  and    then 
began  the  speech  he  had  prepared. 

When  he  had  finished,  Thornton 
got  up  to  introduce  the  freshman 
speaker.  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he 
said,  "  it  would  be  useless  for  me  to 
make  any  comment  upon  the  state- 
ment which  the  last  gentleman  made, 
concerning  the  unexpected  absence  of 
Mr.  Clyde  Hamilton.  I  wish  simply  to 
introduce  to  you"  —  here  Thornton's 
eye  fell  by  chance  on  somebody  stand- 
ing just  below  him  with  his  hand  on  the 
wagon  —  "I  wish  simply  to  introduce 
to  you,"  he  repeated,  after  a  moment  of 
hesitation, "  as  the  speaker  for  the  fresh- 
men class, —  Mr.  Clyde  Hamilton." 

A  burst  of  wild  applause  came  from 
the  freshmen,  and  in  a  moment  Clyde 
was  standing  on  the  seat  of  the  wagon 
ready  to  begin  his  oration. 
3*3 


In  Honor  of  the  Saint. 

Whether  he  made  the  hit  of  the  even- 
ing is  a  mooted  question.  The  fresh- 
men were  enthusiastic  in  affirming  that 
he  did,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
sophomores  were  vigorous  in  their  de- 
nial of  it.  But,  at  any  rate,  his  speech 
was  greatly  applauded  by  those  pres- 
ent. When  he  had  finished,  the  big, 
wooden  hatchet  was  buried  in  the  glow- 
ing embers  of  the  bonfire,  and  the  hos- 
tilities between  sophomores  and  fresh- 
men were  at  an  end. 


THE  END  OF  THE 
BEGINNING 


3'5 


The  End  of  the  Beginning. 


'And  year  by  year  our  memory  fades 
From  all  the  circle  of  the  hills  —  " 

TN  every  class,  when  it  comes  to  be 
graduated,  there  is,  in  addition  to 
the  number  in  good  and  regular  stand- 
ing, who  go  up  to  get  the  sheepskin 
reward  of  their  scholarly  attainments, 
and  who  afterwards  sit  in  tired  import- 
ance at  the  long  tables  in  the  Gym., 
eating  wilted  strawberries  and  cold 
soup,  and  trying  to  look  like  real 
alumni, —  a  "  lost  legion  "  of  classmates 
who  wear  no  black  gowns,  who  are  not 
addressed  by  the  President,  who  hear 
no  class-day  speeches,  but,  falling  early 
or  late  along  the  path  of  knowledge, 
317 


The  End  of  the  Beginning. 

are  scattered  abroad ;  forgotten,  for 
the  most  part,  after  a  little,  save  when 
the  kindly  Gul.  remembers  them,  and 
in  its  catalogue  of  the  classes,  prints 
a  list  of  their  names  as  "sometime 
members." 

Good  fellows  these  are,  for  the  most 
part, —  the  best  of  good  fellows  go 
first  somehow  —  but  who  had  an 
unfortunate  inability  to  come  up  to 
absurdly  exacting  classical  or  scien- 
tific standards,  or,  it  may  be,  whose 
sense  of  the  humor  of  life  exceeded 
the  limits  of  becoming  mirth. 

Neither  of  these,  however,  was  the 
reason  for  Teddie  Carroll's  dropping 
out  of  the  Best  of  all  Classes  at  the 
beginning  of  his  senior  year.  Typhoid 
fever,  that  autumnal  terror,  had 
bowled  him  over,  and  after  his  con- 
valescence, while  his  friends  and  for- 


The  End  of  the  Beginning. 

mer  classmates  were  snow  bound  up 
in  the  wintry  New  England  hills, 
Carroll  was  slowly  creeping  back  into 
life  again  on  the  other  side  of  the 
world  instead  of  being  among  them. 
It  was  only  an  invalid's  fancy,  per- 
haps, but  often  he  would  have 
exchanged  the  softest  and  tenderest 
of  Italian  hillsides  for  a  glimpse  of 
Prospect  looming  in  glistening  majesty 
against  the  turquoise  of  the  wintry 
sky ;  or  have  turned  from  the  Medi- 
terranean in  its  most  divine  mood 
to  the  shining  wastes  of  snow  stretch- 
ing away  to  the  west  on  a  clear  still 
afternoon. 

Carroll  never  supposed  that  he 
would  miss  the  place  as  he  did ;  and 
it  was  only  when  he  was  thousands 
of  miles  away  from  it,  that  he  began 
to  realize  his  love  for  it.  But  he 
3*9 


The  End  of  the  Beginning. 

came  back  in  the  spring,  just  in  time 
to  see  his  class  graduate.  "  In  at  the 
finish,"  as  Worthington  Winthrop 
had  said,  when  he  came  up  to  the 
Greylock  to  welcome  him  back  the 
night  of  his  arrival. 

"You'll  be  at  chapel  in  the  morn- 
ing, of  course.  It's  Hi  Juvenes,  you 
know,"  Winthrop  said  as  he  bade 
Carroll's  mother  good  night. 

"  Hi  Juvenes "  did  not  carry  any 
definite  impression  to  Mrs.  Carroll's 
mind,  but  she  smiled  and  said  [of 
course — that  she  meant  to  go  to  all 
the  commencement  exercises. 

At  least  once  a  year  chapel  ceases 
to  be  a  compulsion  and  late  naps  and 
breakfasts  are  made  a  free-will  sacri- 
fice. And  this  is  on  Hi  Juvenes  — 
the  last  chapel  service  that  the  seniors 
attend  as  a  class.  This  particular 
320 


The  End  of  the  Beginning. 

June  morning  seemed  made  to  order 
for  the  Best  of  all  Classes, —  cool,  blue 
and  cloudless,  with  a  light  wind  to  stir 
the  trees  and  weave  the  leafy  shadows 
with  the  sun. 

The  chapel  was  nearly  full  when 
Teddie  came  in  with  his  mother :  the 
sophomores,  in  their  seats,  trying  to 
show  that  they  had  been  through  it 
all  before ;  on  the  opposite  side  and 
down  into  the  transept,  with  the  great 
Garfield  window  darkling  above  them, 
the  freshmen  —  interested,  curious  and 
impressed ;  next  to  them  the  juniors, 
with  the  shadow  of  the  end  just  be- 
ginning to  creep  upon  them. 

"  The  empty  pews  are  waiting  for 
the  seniors,  I  suppose  ?  "  Mrs.  Carroll 
said.  Her  son  nodded.  The  old  habit 
of  thought  still  remained.  He  felt 
out  of  place  back  there  among  all  the 


The  End  of  the  Beginning. 

faculty  wives  and  visitors.  Then  he 
remembered  that  in  a  moment  more 
his  class  was  to  sit  there  in  those 
waiting,  vacant  seats  for  the  last  time. 
The  place  seemed  full  of  flowers, — 
bowls  and  jars  of  them  —  iris  and 
heavy  branches  of  lilac  and  early  roses, 
the  sort  of  flowers  that  the  faculty 
gardens  are  sweet  with.  Against  the 
deep  colored  curtains  behind  the 
pulpit  the  numerals  of  the  class 
gleamed  out  in  the  golden  whiteness 
of  syringa  flowers;  and  above  them, 
between  the  shining  pipes  of  the  or- 
gan, were  masses  of  the  shadowy  green- 
ness of  wood  ferns.  Over  the  sound 
of  the  music  one  could  hear  the  chapel 
bell  ringing  the  three  strokes  of  the 
last  warning  relentlessly.  A  freshman 
hurried  in  and  took  his  seat.  The  bell, 
with  one  final,  careless  clang,  ceased. 
322 


The  End  of  the  Beginning. 

The  organ  music  had  almost  died 
away  and  then,  as  in  response  to  some 
signal,  swelled  out  into  broad,  sweep- 
ing harmonies. 

"  They  are  coming,"  Carroll  whis- 
pered. The  sophomores  nearest  the 
door  had  risen,  and  the  others  fol- 
lowed their  example.  Up  the  aisle, 
through  the  lane  the  standing  men 
made,  swept  the  President,  the  wide 
sleeves  of  his  stiff,  black  silk  gown 
brushing  against  them  as  he  passed. 
Then  the  marshals  came,  the  biting 
purple  of  their  cap  tassels  and  of 
their  baton  ribbons  striking  a  glad 
note  of  color  against  the  blackness  of 
their  gowns.  The  rest  of  the  class 
followed,  two  by  two,  swinging  slowly 
behind  them,  with  the  organ  pealing 
as  if  in  welcome. 

Carroll  swallowed  hard  and  his  eyes 
323 


The  End  of  the  Beginning. 

grew  bright, —  he  had   been    ill,    you 
see,  and  little  things  affected  him. 

"  Aren't  they  a  splendid  crowd  ?  " 
he  whispered  to  his  mother,  under 
the  confusion  that  came  as  the  men 
looked  for  their  seats.  "  See,  that  big 
chap  over  there  is  Fields,  the  foot-ball 
captain,  the  man  who  got  the  pennant 
for  Williams  last  year.  And  the  little 
fellow  next  to  him  is  Reese,  who  draws 
so  well.  Young?  Yes,  he  does  look 
it,  but  he  can  take  care  of  himself  all 
right.  That's  Billy  Withers  just  be- 
hind him, —  you've  heard  me  speak  of 
Billy.  They  say  he  has  gotten  en- 
gaged,—  I  must  ask  him  about  it. 
The  tall  fellow  with  the  light  hair  is 
Alexander,  one  of  the  finest  men  I 
ever  knew.  That's  Holbrook,  just  sit- 
ting down,  who  won  every  prize  in 
sight.  And  do  you  see  the  stocky  lit- 
324 


The  End  of  the  Beginning. 

tie  chap  with  curly  hair  and  glasses  ? 
That's  Hardy,  the  ball  player.  But 
I've  told  you  all  about  him  lots  of 
times.  Which  ?  The  one  behind 
Hardy?  Oh,  Bob  Akerly,  the  most 
all  round  man  in  college." 

Carroll  was  suddenly  forced  to  stop 
his  cataloging,  for  the  service  had 
begun, —  the  simple,  straightforward, 
little  service,  that,  somehow,  this 
morning  had  acquired  a  new  solem- 
nity and  beauty.  They  sang  "  Ein 
Feste  Burg  "  at  the  end,  every  man  of 
them  joining  in.  Very  likely  it  was 
the  inspiration  of  the  time  and  the 
music  that  gave  to  the  splendid  battle 
song  of  youth  and  courage  an  unaccus- 
tomed power  and  volume.  And  then 
a  hush  and  a  benediction,  and  after- 
wards, with  the  undergraduates  stand- 
ing to  honor  them,  the  Best  of  all 
325 


The  End  of  the  Beginning. 

Classes  filed  down  the  aisle  and  out 
of  the  chapel  into  the  early  sunshine, — 
alumni. 

They  cheered,  then,  first  for  Wil- 
liams, of  course,  and  then  for  their 
class,  and  after  that  for  the  other 
classes  as  they  crowded  out  and 
formed  into  groups,  cheering  in 
answer. 

The  reaction  followed,  —  an  anti- 
climax of  good-natured  horse  play, 
that  came  as  gratefully,  after  all  the 
emotional  tension  of  the  morning,  as 
the  comic  relief  in  a  highly  wrought 
play.  The  others  had  come  out  from 
the  building  by  this  time,  and  stood 
watching  the  merry  confusion  of  fly- 
ing gowns  and  scurrying  men. 

Carroll  and  his  mother  were  stand- 
ing a  little  apart  from  the  others. 
"  Dear  boy,"  Mrs.  Carroll  said,  after  a 
326 


The  End  of  the  Beginning. 

little  silence,  "  is  it  much  harder  than 
you  thought  not  to  be  with  them  ? " 
He  was  looking  across  the  wavering 
summer  greenness  to  where,  far  be- 
yond, the  hills  stood  like  sentinels  on 
guard. 

"  I'm  sorry,  of  course,  not  to  have 
stayed  with  them  to  the  end,"  he  said 
slowly,  "  but,  after  all,  I  shall  always 
be  a  Williams  man." 


327 


